


Sympathy For The Devil

by Dr_ghostie_goo



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (maybe), Aborted No Mercy Route, Alternate Universe - Politics, Big Sans, Chara Is Their Own Warning, Chara Redemption, Chara possession, Cliffhangers, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Fantastic Racism, Female Chara, Female Frisk, Frisk Is Dead, Grillby/original character - Freeform, Having A Bad Time, Human/Monster War, Minor Alphys/Undyne, Minor Asgore Dreemurr/Toriel, Monsterphobia, Mostly Platonic, My First Work in This Fandom, Not shiny happy holding hands and skipping through the flowers, Organized Crime, Original Character(s), Overprotective Sans, Post-Pacifist Route, Scary Sans, Undertale Spoilers, Unfortunate Implications, and other things you want to read about., clean af, grillby/oc - Freeform, post traumatic sans, undertale green soul, undertale orange soul
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 18:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 47
Words: 136,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6249919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_ghostie_goo/pseuds/Dr_ghostie_goo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The barrier has fallen. Frisk is <i>dead.</i> Assassinated at a peace rally, leaving scores of monsters disillusioned. <br/>Enter a new player, and an old enemy. No more determination. No more resets. From here on out, everything is <i> permanent.</i></p><p>contains ocs because reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue (the boring beginning bits)

**Author's Note:**

> Eh...  
> So I haven't written a fan fiction since like... babyhood practically. But I thought this one would be a good break from more serious writing. This might be a multi chapter type deal if anyone is actually interested in my drabbles. Otherwise it might just be a cliffhangery one-shot. 
> 
> Let me know what you think guys. 
> 
> enjoy this garbage.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TUMBLR for FIC: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/

Sympathy for the Devil  
Prologue: (the boring beginning bits)

The human took the long way to work. It was a chilly spring morning and the fast talking man on the radio had promised rain. The human couldn’t find her umbrella that morning, but she chanced it anyway. The human had woken up with her bed-sheets tangled around her legs and her fat tabby cat sitting on her face. She pushed the cat off. The feline threw her a reproachful look and slunk away. The human rose and discovered, dismally— that she had woken up to a Monday morning.

It wasn’t rainy, just—wet. But the promise of rain hung in the air, while the fat clouds overhead grumbled with thunder, as if they were arguing with each other trying to decide whether to rain or not. The human bustled down alleyways. She pulled her hood down over her head. She didn’t run, but kept a brisk pace and kept her eyes down.

The long way was more secluded—yes, but it cut through the southern district, skirting around the edges of the city. This was the poorer side of town. The bad part of town. The monster part of town. The barrier had fallen but humanity had been quick to erect a dozen more in its place. Not physical barriers like before. No, these barriers came in the form of ‘human only’ signs in the windows of stores and restaurants. They came in the form of organized crime, in racial slurs spattered on the subway walls, in the form of paranoia, in the form of an unspoken border slicing down the middle of the city. in the form of _separate but equal._

The human crammed her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie. She kept her nose pointed at the sidewalk, keeping as much of her face obscured as possible. She did not stop to admire the yellow flowers in the store windows. She said nothing, when she bumped shoulders with a hairy towering stranger—and picked up her pace when he grunted a soft ‘excuse me’. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She was alien—a nail that stuck up oddly from the others. She tried to make herself unnoticeable, _ignoreable_ wary of a hammer come to pound her back into place. It was an unsettling walk to say the least.

But at the very least it wasn’t crowded. Few monsters came out of their houses this close to dawn. A local gang had strong armed their way into establishing an unofficial curfew for all monsters. They didn’t want monsters milling around town after dark. But even so, the soft morning light was beginning to slowly draw the denizens of the southern district out of their homes and into the streets. The human felt a cold hand of fear wrap itself around her heart. Bollocks. She needed to hurry. Yet despite her anxiety she kept her same course through the streets.

The human couldn’t have handled the subway that morning. She just couldn’t. Too many people all crammed together in a sweaty awkward clump—each one practically buzzing muddled emotions. Buzzing with stress, with anxiety, with exhaustion— No, the human had to take the long way to work. Even if she had to walk in the rain through the southern district. It would be worth it.

The human let out a breath of relief when she neared the old meadow mill apartment complex. Once she was past it, she would come to the point where the road forked—the unspoken crossroads between the northern and southern districts. She was almost in the clear. The western fork was just a few yards and a chain link fence shy of the freeway. The human could hear the honking and rumble of the traffic barreling by and felt a twinge of pity for the monsters who had to live so close to the noise. But she didn’t dwell on it. She would take the eastern fork of the road—the one that led back into the familiar. Back home.

a sudden crash in the alleyway behind the apartment building caused the human’s heart to leap into her throat. she spun, searching wildly for the source.

 

“PLEASE COME OUT LITTLE DOG!” a loud voice sounded through the ambiance of clattering garbage cans and lids. “I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS ONLY WISH TO ASSIST YOU.” This time the human heard a distinct snarl in the mix—it sounded like a dog. A very agitated dog. The snarl rose into a yelping snap and the loud voice let out a gasp. More crashing. A trashcan lid bounced and rolled out of the alleyway spinning to a stop near the human’s feet. She was ready to bolt, feet poised to run, fist’s clenched so hard that her nails dug into the palms of her hands. But then…

 

“P-PLEASE… YOU’RE BROKEN…THE RED STUFF IS SUPPOSED TO STAY INSIDE OF YOU…I-I’M SURE OF IT…” the voice quavered softer than before. The human frowned chewing her lower lip until she tasted blood... The terrifying voice from the alleyway sounded as though it was biting back tears. The human’s shoulders fell. _Bollocks…._

  
Against her better judgment, swallowing down all the lectures her parents had drilled into her head about stranger danger, all the news reports of monster attacks and gang violence—the human approached.


	2. Fish Impersonations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never sneak up on a gigantic skeleton monster in a sketchy alleyway. Even if he has a puppy...
> 
>  
> 
> TUMBLR for FIC: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/

‘where’s your sense of danger? I swear you were born without any ‘spidey-sense’’ That was what the human’s parents had said about her. She had always been a spacey person, even when she was little. She’d have hopped right into a kidnapper’s van if he had candy or a puppy. Realizing this, the human’s parents went to great lengths to drill some sense into their child’s head.

‘Never eat candy you find on the street.’—they would say.

‘If someone you don’t know offers you a ride home,--run’

‘Never talk to strangers.’

The human pressed her back up against the cool bricks of the apartment complex, steeling herself. She was right around the corner from the alleyway now. The monster’s voice went on in that same coaxing tone—only to be answered with more snarls and keening. The human squeezed her eyes shut.

‘Never let a stranger inside the house.’

‘Never go out by yourself after dark’

‘Never go into a dark alleyway with a monster even if he sounds like a nice guy...’ The human’s mind chimed in sardonically. She was shaking now. ‘…even if he has a puppy…’ Heh. _Her parents would have been disappointed in her life decisions._ She turned the corner.

The human wasn’t sure what she had expected when she shuffled into the alleyway. But whatever her frantic brain could manage to conjure up was nowhere near as bizarre as what she actually found. A skeleton. it was a living breathing skeleton. How was that even possible? Her mind swam trying to process what she was seeing. It was freaking huge! The skeleton was crouched down on its (his?) hands and knees, rear-end in the air. It had a cheekbone pressed to the dirty ground as it tried to peer under the dumpster. Normally such a sight would have made the human laugh. Her mind was swimming before—now it was flat out drowning. Oh _bollocks._

Why _had_ she come into the creepy monster alley for again? For the life of her she couldn’t remember. All she could do was stand there and gape like a bass with its mouth open. Why wasn’t she backing away? She SHOULD just back out of the alley and pretend this had never happened. The monster hadn’t seen her yet, too preoccupied with the dog. She could slip away without it ever knowing she was—

The Skeleton drew back sharply letting out a loud high pitch yip as he jolted to his feet, suddenly seeming to grow to an impossible height. It let out another garbled yelp, clutching it’s glove covered hand. The human felt a chill race down her back. _Ah. There it is. The spidey sense_. She ducked behind a recycling bin. The alleyway was silent for a moment. Only the sound of the dog’s nervous growling. Had the monster seen her? She should just run for it. Get up and charge to the border, and pray that those very long skeletal legs wouldn’t overtake her before she got a good scream out. The human shifted to a squat heart banging around against the inside of her rib cage. But then— .

“A-AH… IT APPEARS YOU HAVE BITTEN THE GREAT PAPYRUS LITTLE DOG.” The loud voice broke the silence. Cementing the human in her shoes once more. “THIS IS CLEARLY AN UNFORTUNATE…ER…ACCIDENT. YOU MUST HAVE CAUGHT THE DELICIOUS AROMA OF SPAGHETTI ON MY HANDS… YES… YOU’VE… MADE A MISTAKE…” He sounded so unsure that she risked a peek from her hiding spot. The skeleton had his back to her, standing over the dumpster. One gloved hand scratching the back of his skull. For the first time, the human saw him proper. He was easily more than eight feet tall by her estimations. But he didn’t loom exactly—not how she thought he would. Rather his posture was almost awkward, he kept alternating between wringing his hands, and shifting them to his hips or face—like he wasn’t sure exactly what to do with them. The skeleton sudden struck a heroic pose, one hand fisted against his sternum the other on his hips. The wind even seemed to pick up a little, causing his little red cape to flutter dramatically. The human gawked.

“FRET NOT, ONCE I THE GREAT PAPYRUS CAPTURE YOU, YOU WILL BE ABLE TO EAT MY AMAZING SPAGHETTI WHENEVER YOU WANT!” he declared with a hearty ‘nyeh heh heh!’ His laugh immediately turned into a choke when the dog took this opportunity to dart between his legs. Making a bee-line towards west fork. Towards the _freeway._

The human acted on impulse, leaping from behind the bin and threw her arms out to block the dog’s escape from the alleyway. It nearly tripped and skidded over its own feet when the human pinched off his exit. It fumbled around with a keening yelp, its mouth frothing, eyes wild. The skeleton was right. The dog was hurt. Bits of dried blood crusted around its neck, there was something shiny tied there, but the human barely had time to take it all in before the dog darted back beneath the dumpster, disappearing once again among the garbage. For a brief instant the human felt relieved. Crisis averted. That is, until she realized she was standing in the mouth of the alleyway. Exposed. Her eyes darted upwards and instantly locked with a pair of black eye sockets. Impossibly—the sockets widened. The human felt her face pulling its fish impersonation again. Oh _Bollocks…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another cliffhanger. :')  
> Sorry guys, I'm really feeling these shortish chapters. I'll try to make longer posts in the future. 
> 
>  
> 
> let me know what you guys think in the comments.


	3. Gentle Coaxing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Yay, finally some interaction between these two.**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Sorry if this chapter is a little slow moving. I was planning on combining this chapter with the next one but I thought it would be waaaay too long that way. So I cut it in half.**
> 
>  
> 
> **The next one should be coming soon.**
> 
>  
> 
> **Also, do you guys think papyrus is a little out of character here? I'm kind of worried about butchering the characters personalities. Let me know. Anyways, enjoy!**
> 
> TUMBLR for FIC: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/

 

This…wasn’t how she’d expected things to go. But then how often does reality live up to our expectations? Seeing as how she was practically trespassing, human had expected a much more hostile meeting. True, there wasn’t any sort of law that forbid humans and monsters from intermingling. But it was something that just didn’t happen. Humans steered clear of the monster part of town and monsters did likewise. After all, humans had imprisoned the monsters in an underground prison for centuries. And monsters were said to be capable of ripping the souls right out of people’s bodies. Obviously there would be some bad blood between them. The human had expected anger, disgust, which would quickly escalate to violence. The monster would rush her, shout threats and obscenities, maybe even call for his pals to help him run her off. And when that happened, the human would fight, flee, beg—whatever it took for her to escape in one piece. She was ready for aggression—but not for was what actually followed.

 

“OH! GREETINGS SMALL…” –he looked her up and down- “…TRASH-DWELLING HUMAN! WHAT CAN I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, DO FOR YOU?” The monster beamed, bending down as if to get a better look at her—glove covered hands wresting on his knees. The human took an automatic step backwards. What? She tried to absorb what he’d said—to make sense of it. But her mind kept hitching over the phrase ‘trash-dwelling’. Her eyes roved over the monster groping for understanding. He wore thick bright red rain boots and some type of armor. The armor was a bit scuffed and dirty—probably from hunkering around in the trash. The skeleton shifted under her gaze, smiling waning. The human blinked. Bollocks. He…he’d asked a question hadn’t he? The human opened and closed her mouth dumbly, trying to formulate a polite way of saying ‘please don’t murder me’, but brain didn’t seem to be working right. Nervous beads of sweat began to form on the skeleton’s forehead. He was waiting. Say something.

“you’ve got a McDonalds wrapper stuck to your shoulder” the human blurted out. Why? Of all things was that what her mind chose to focus on? The skeleton faltered eyes dropping. And sure enough, he had a grilled McChicken wrapper sticking to the roundish armor of his left shoulder. He snatched the wrapper up, crumpled it, and tossed it over his shoulder. It left a smear of ketchup in its wake. With a nervous sort of laugh He began brushing himself off, looking anywhere but at the human.

“u-uh you’ve….you’ve got a little-.” She gestured vaguely to the ketchup on his shoulder. He paid her the briefest glance before pulling out a Kleenex and rapidly began wiping his arm clean.

“BETTER?” he asked.

“you got it…”

Another beat of silence. _What now?_ The human was at a loss. All those perfectly reasonable courses of action she’d considered—like running for it or screaming her head off—now seemed kind of…well, rude. Seeming to feel that this exchange was quickly devolving into another staring match, the skeleton decided to break the silence. “EHEM..” He cleared a nonexistent throat, then shifted into his previous confident pose.

“I…I SEE YOU HAVE BEEN RENDERED SPEECHLESS SMALL HUMAN. A PERFECTLY NORMAL RESPONSE IN THE PRESENSE OF ONE SO MARVELOUS AS THE GREAT—“

“What happened to the dog?” The human hadn’t meant to interrupt and she winced, hearing the accusation in her own voice. Bollocks, where did her manners go? The monster’s skull drew back, smile falling.

“I…I DON’T KNOW EXACLTY.” He admitted. “ I HEARD IT WHINING DOWN THERE WHEN I CAME TO DISPOSE OF MY GARBAGE. I THINK IT MIGHT BE HURT.” the skeleton tapped his fingers together. “IT EH…IT WON’T COME OUT.”

The human drew in her chin. There were few things she took pride in. But her ability to read emotions had always been something she was good at. Hell, It was probably the only thing she was good at. That’s how she came to work at the local animal shelter. She knew how to read body language. And this monster, for the life of her just seemed so….genuine. Was that the reason she hadn’t run away from the beginning? Her eyes flicked from the worried skull above her to the dumptster where the injured animal hid. She set her chin. Alright. Time to do something ballsey…

“Let me see.” She strode towards the dumpster and the skeleton moved aside to let her pass as she knelt down. She could feel the monster hovering over her, watching the scene. Ignore it. Just focus on the dog… The dog looked like it was on its last leg. It was small, mangy— some kind of shiatzu- pug mix. It had a thick metal wire tied around its neck so tight that it had cut into its flesh, leaving it bloody and raw. The fur was so matted and overgrown that it seemed to have trouble seeing clearing through it. The dog might have been white or a light grey, it was hard to tell under all that grime. It let out a whine and the human felt a stab of anger. Who would leave an animal in this kind of condition? She reached a hand slowly, coaxingly towards the opening.

 

“WAIT!” suddenly an enormous gloved hand grabbed the human’s wrist and yanked it back. The scream she’d been holding in, escaped from her throat and she yanked her arm. The skeleton released her instantly, fumbling back and falling back on his rear. Her hand raised reflexively to her chest and she spun around to face him. The skeleton balked, crab walking back away from her, looking for the life of him like she had just slapped him.

“I-I’m sorry...” the skeleton whispered. Or at least, as close to a whisper as someone like him could manage. He wrung his hands. “I, the great papyrus do not think you should get too close to the dog.” awkwardly, the skeleton pulled off one of his gloves to reveal the white hand bones underneath. a long  splintering crack running the length of his palm—it almost looked like cracked china. The human’s eyes widened.   _that’s where the dog bit him…_ “I..I don’t really understand why… but please away from its mouth…”

 

Oh…Ouch. The human felt a wave of guilt for screaming. She’d never have guessed that an eight and a half foot skeleton could pull off a ‘kicked puppy’ look with such finesse. She ran a hand over her face, taking in a deep breath.

“You want to help the dog right?”

“OH YES, YES OF COURSE! BUT IF IT IS A MEAN DOGGIE, THEN I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, INSIST THAT YOU STAY AWAY FROM IT.” He wrung his hands, then reached hesitantly towards the opening. “HERE—I WILL PULL THE DOG OUT. YOU KEEP YOUR TINY HANDS AWAY…” Without thinking she grabbed his wrist.

“No, don’t. It’s okay really. I do this for a living, “ she tried to sound reassuring. “and I don’t think its really a mean dog, its just scared is all.” The skeleton cocked his head as if the concept was entirely foreign to him. She tried to clarify. “Y’see, sometimes when animals get scared they act aggressively to try and scare off whatever is scaring them. They’re just protecting themselves.”

“I WOULD NOT HURT THEM. I AM THEIR FRIEND…” The skeleton mumbled. The human bit her lip. She felt like she was talking to a child. How should she put this…?

 

“It just… doesn’t know that you’re its friend yet. When an animal is scared, it can take time for them trust. Especially if they’re hurt like this one. So trying to reach in and grab them isn’t going to work.” The skeleton reluctantly obeyed. He raised his palms frowning at them miserably.

 

“THEN…WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO?”

 

The human pointed to the other side of the dumpster.

 

“Shh. Sit over there so you can box it in if it tries to escape out the side. Let me handle this. And keep your voice down. U-um, I mean please…” she flushed, realizing what she was doing. Here she was, a tiny 5-foot-nothing girl barking orders at a giant skeleton monster as though he was one of her little brothers. If the skeleton was offended by her slip, he didn’t show it, but quickly scrambled- half crawling over to the spot she’d indicated. He sat down and drew his knees up under his boney jaw. The human took a deep breath and went to work.

Earning the trust of a frightened, injured street dog wasn’t a quick process. It involved a lot of waiting, a lot of coaxing and—in the human’s experience—a lot of treats. She took It slow, reminding herself of the steps. _don’t stare or look directly into its eyes. Keep your distance at first. use soft words and coaxing to get it comfortable. Show it that you’re gentle. Offer it treats._ The human patted into her bag and pulled out the ham sandwich she’d packed for lunch. She tore off tiny pieces and tossed them under so that they landed close to the dog’s snout. After several minutes of soft words and coaxing, the dog brought his snout closer and gave the sandwich a sniff, then it snapped the food up. The second it swallowed Its nose instantly snuffled around for more. The human put a little into her hand and held it out to the dog.

 

There was a soft cooing sound. The skeleton—true to form—hadn’t moved so much as an inch from where she pointed. But when he saw the dog begin to crawl towards the proffered hand, he clapped his palms together, his entire body practically vibrating with joy. Gingerly the dog took the bite of sandwich. The human risked brushing her fingertips over its snout. The dog gave them a lick. The skeleton rocked trying his hardest not to make a sound. his boots clicked together eagerly and his bony hands clasped in front of his mouth to suppress any unbidden chirps of glee. The human continued to pet and coax the dog until it was all the way out into the open. It wiggled forwards and stuck its face into the human’s side. Her entire body relaxed and she turned to see the skeleton gaping at her in wonderment, as though she had just pulled a rabbit out of her hat. He made a move like he wanted to touch the dog but then lowered his hand uncertainly.

 

“DO YOU THINK HE’LL LET YOU PICK HIM UP…?” Papyrus asked. The human tried to shift the dog closer and it practically melted into her arms. She smiled, and gave him a nod.

 

“GREAT!” he leapt to his feet motioning towards the apartment complex. “COME HUMAN, BRING THE DOG INSIDE.”

 

The human’s smile froze as she remembered where she was. And who she was with. Oh. _Oh this was sketchy_. True she’d warmed up considerably to the big goofy skeleton. But going into the apartment of a monster she just met? _Hell, this right here was 52 original flavors of sketch._ She looked at the skeleton’s hopeful face, then at the tired animal curled up in her arms, then she sighed. _Screw it. In for a penny, in for a pound_. She nodded her assent.


	4. Skeleton Closets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaand here's sans. 
> 
> Thanks for the comments guys. They really keep me going.
> 
> _____________________________________________________________________________________________________
> 
>  
> 
> TUMBLR for FIC: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/

Chapter 3: The skeleton closets

 

The skeleton's apartment was surprisingly normal. The human cast her eyes around the space, expecting to find cobwebs and pagan alters. But no, It was merely a simple three bedroom flat with a small kitchen and living room. There was a bowl of fruit on kitchen table. _So normal. It was almost disappointing._

"UHGH! LAZYBONES… HE'S LOCKED THE DOOR AGAIN…" The human blinked snapping out of her reverie.

"Sorry—what?"

Papyrus was tugging on the doorknob of one of the rooms, trying in vain to open it.

"MY BROTHER, HE'S LOCKED UP THE LAB AGAIN AND HID THE KEYS!" papyrus groused, stomping one of his large boot covered feet.

"Oh." She shifted, the mangy little dog was beginning to grow heavy in her arms. "Uh, maybe we could use the kitchen table or—"

"NO, NO SMALL HUMAN, THE KITCHEN TABLE IS FOR SPAGHETTI, NOT FOR MISSIONS OF EMERGENCY ANIMAL RESCUE." papyrus let out a 'NYEH HEH HEH' and patted her on the head. The human jumped, startled by the gesture. But to her credit she didn't scream or pull away this time. Papyrus—thankfully, did not seem to realize her moment of distress. He was scratching a bony finger along his jawbone making a soft 'scrit scrit scrit' sound. The human waited, wishing she could put the dog down.

"HELVETICA!" papyrus exclaimed with a snap of his fingers.

"Hel-whaty-what?"

"… PROBABLY COERCED HIS FAITHFUL PET INTO TO GUARDING THE KEY WHILE HE WAS AWAY!" Papyrus declared, marching over to a fish tank in the corner of the room. "HA! WE'LL JUST SEE ABOUT THAT?" The human pulled a face and followed. _Damn that skeleton could move fast. curse those abnormally long legs..._ The tank was lined with paper bedding and fake plants and had a large grey rock right in the middle. The human squinted inside, but couldn't figure out where this 'Helvetica' was hiding. From the setup she figured it was probably a snake or small lizard. Papyrus pulled off his glove and reached a boney hand into the tank. Gingerly he lifted the rock up.

VERY CLEVER BROTHER, USING YOUR PET ROCK TO GUARD YOUR SECRETS!" he produced a small brass key from under the rock, beaming. " BUT TOO BAD HE IS NO MATCH FOR THE GREAT PAPYRUS!" The human glanced between his proud grin and the key he brandished triumphantly. She shrugged and gave him a polite clap. "NYEH HEH HEH…" He ran a bony finger down the length of the rock as if he were giving it a pat then put it back into the tank. He then poured a handful of what looked like bits of multi-colored construction paper and littered it down on top of the rock. _It's not polite to stare…_ The human gave her head a little shake and looked away. Papyrus wasted no time unlocking the offending door and ushering the human inside. The lab was white, sterile and immaculately neat. The walls lined with shelves upon shelves of books and computers. There were strange diagrams and notes on nearly every surface. The human frowned.

"um. Papyrus? Are you sure its alright for us to be in here?" she asked feeling as though she were intruding on someone's private space. Obviously whoever owned all this had gone to the trouble to lock it up and hide the key. So was it really okay for them to be barging in like this?

Papyrus simply patted her shoulder and kept walking, nyeh heh hehing as if he thought she'd made a joke. The tall skeleton milled around like he owned the place, so she decided to let it go. Towards the back of the room was a metal examination table. It wasn't a bad place to work either, the clean surface and the overhead lights were almost identical to the ones they used over at the shelter. Papyrus motioned to the table.

"YES, PUT HIM DOWN HERE!"

Carefully the human placed the dog down on the cool surface and turned the lights on she could better see the extent of the damage. She grimaced. The dog's neck was worse off than she'd first thought. The fur around its neck had fallen out replaced by raw, rancid smelling gashes. Probably infected. The dog would no doubt need antibiotics. She took a deep breath patting the head. _First things first._

"We need to get this wire off. Do you have anything we could cut it with?"

Papyrus squinted giving the metal wire an experimental poke. He scratched his jawbone.

"POSSIBLY…I DON'T KNOW. SANS DOESN'T REALLY LIKE ME BRING KNIVES AND SHARP OBJECTS INTO THE FLAT ANYMORE…" sans—that must have been the brother. The human raised a brow.

"why not?"

"I THINK HE SAID HE HAD A NIGHTMARE ABOUT BEING ATTACKED BY KITCHEN APPLIANCES. IT SEEMED TO HAVE GIVEN HIM QUITE THE SCARE." Papyrus shrugged, looking through the drawers. "I ASKED HIM IF HE WOULD LIKE ME TO THROW OUT THE BLENDER AND WAFFLE IRON AS WELL BUT HE DECLINED…. NOT SURE WHY…AHAH!" the skeleton produced a large pair of metal shears from a drawer, holding them out to her. "THIS SHOULD WORK!" The human took them dubiously. They looked sharp, but could they really pierce the metal wire? _It was worth a try._

"Keep him distracted, um… please." she added on the last bit as an afterthought. The skeleton began cooing and patting the dog comfortingly while she began washing the wound. The dog jumped at intervals when she brushed over a particularly sore bit of his neck and Papyrus would instantly lean down and pepper the animal's head with kisses. How do you even kiss without lips? The human gave her head a little shake. If she kept getting stuck on every bizarre thing she'd be here all day. _Focus…_ carefully, she slipped the edge of the blade under the wire. She winced the wound smelled rancid—probably infected. _Just how long had the dog been tied like this?_

After a deep breath and a nod from papyrus, she squeezed down on the shears. But the wire was too thick, and she put little more than a scratch on its surface. Grumbling she tried squeezing harder. And Harder still. The wire remained intact. _C'mon….c'mon…_. she put her weight into it.

SNAP!

There was a sharp yip. it took the human a second to realize she'd screamed. The shears had broken in half, two blades separated from each other. Something red glinted on the tip of one of the blades. Papyrus' eyes bugged out.

"HUMAN! OH MY GOSH! YOUR HAND!" papyrus shouted. "YOU'RE BROKEN, I'VE BROKEN YOU OH MY GOSH!" Her hand? She looked down to find a thin bloody gash across the palm of her hand. She flexed her fingers and the blood pooled up in the crevices of her palm. She blinked. _Oh._

"CURSE MY FOOLISHNESS! I SHOULD NEVER HAVE MADE YOU USE THE IMPROPER TOOLS FOR THIS DELICATE OPERATION! IT'S ALL MY FAULT, HUMAN I AM SO SORRY-"

"uh…no, its fine…" her palm wasn't bleeding too badly, the wound must not have been very deep. Suddenly a white cloth was pressed down onto her palm, hiding the red from view.

"QUICKLY! APPLY PRESSURE! CAPTURE THE RED STUFF HUMAN! DO NOT LET IT ESCAPE!"

"Capture…?"

Papyrus ran into the bathroom and returned moments later carrying a small white box with a red X on the front. A first aid kit? _Why would a skeleton even need one? They didn't even have any skin._

"H-HERE! NOT TO WORRY HUMAN, THE GREAT PAPYRUS WILL ADMINISTER THE ADHESIVE MEDICAL STRIPS." Papyrus got down on his knees in front of her—his head was almost level with hers. He held up A fistful of drugstore band aids. The band aids had Hello Kitty on printed on them.

_Oh._

And just like that—it happened. A barrier fell. Whatever fears and reservations the human had about this huge, guileless loud, wonderful, skeleton shattered. It just burst. Soundless. Gentle. No more yielding than popping a soap bubble. And then it was gone.

"H-HUMAN…?" Papyrus brushed a large, oddly warm hand over her head. And just like that—the human began to laugh. She laughed so hard that tears came to her eyes, so hard that it hurt her ribs. Relief. The skeleton stared at her as though she had suddenly sprouted a second head. His fingertips clicked together nervously. The human grinned up at him, then raised her wounded hand up for him to see.

"Look…we're twins…."she snorted. Papyrus let out a belabored groan.

"THIS IS NO TIME FOR JOKES HUMAN! I—"

"Charlotte." The human interjected. Papyrus blinked, then gave his skull a little shake as if he'd lost his concentration.

 

"I….WHAT?"

 

The human wiped the corner of her eyes on her sleeve. It felt like a huge burden had been lifted off her shoulders.

 

"My name is Charlotte." She put out a hand as If this was their first meeting, grinning broadly. Papyrus lit up like a Christmas tree.

 

"IT IS A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU HUMAN CHARLOTTE!" He grabbed her hand in his and shook it vigorously—previous annoyance all but forgotten.

 

"Likewise. Uh, sorry about your scissors…" Charlotte said, looking over at the broken pieces.

 

"THAT IS QUITE ALRIGHT HUMAN-! THEY WERE MY BROTHERS ANYWAY." Charlotte pulled a face but let that one pass. She tended to her hand thoughtfully.

 

"We're probably going to need some wire cutters to get that thing off. Not sure if anything else would work as well…"

 

"I THINK KNOW JUST THE PERSON WE CAN ASK."

 

"Another monster?" _Was it rude to assume?_

 

"YES SHE LIVES A FEW FLOORS UP—I'M SURE SHE'LL HAVE THEM!"

 

It was decided that papyrus would go upstairs to his friend's flat to see if she had a pair of wire cutters they could borrow. Charlotte didn't really want to stay there alone. But reluctantly agreed so that someone could keep an eye on the dog.

Minutes ticked by and charlotte sat by the dog, patting his head. she waited. Half an hour passed. Charlotte glanced at her watch. What was taking papyrus so long? The human got up, stretching a kink out of her back. She was definitely going to be late for her shift at work. Better shoot the boss a text… To her annoyance her phone was dead. She scoured the room for an outlet so she could charge it up. She found one near a stack of file folders and plugged it in. The topmost folder was a bit dog-eared and torn, probably old. She glanced over the label.

'Properties of the human soul.'

Charlotte blinked.

They say monsters have the ability to rip people's souls right out of their chests. They say that's the reason they were locked underground to begin with. Charlotte wasn't sure who 'they' were, but they said a lot of things. Still…Charlotte glanced around. Papyrus still hadn't come back from his friend's apartment. He was so loud about everything he did—certainly she'd hear him when he came back in…right? Charlotte chewed her lower lip. _It couldn't hurt to take a peek could it?_

Whenever Charlotte had heard people talk about souls it was either in a religious setting or in a new agey- buy-my-overpriced-incense- kind of way. But this… the pages were lined with algorithms, and charts that looked like something out of a college text book. She squinted at the numbers, trying to make sense of them. On one page there was a detailed illustration of a human body. It was labeled and for the most part looked fairly accurate. But in the center of the person's chest there was a cartoonish looking heart. What was that? But she didn't get the chance to investigate further.

THUMP.

Charlotte had always been good at reading emotions. It was about the only thing she was good at. So she felt the drastic shift in the atmosphere of the room long before she saw anything else. The air seemed to grow thinner, sharper colder… The glow of the halogen lights seemed to dim, and a feeling of coldness began to spread over Charlotte's body. The warm comforting feeling papyrus left behind was sucked out of the room, like the air being let out of a balloon. The comfort was replace with…with…

The dog began to growl, hackles rising—it must have felt it too; the electricity in the air, the feeling of staring eyes—of cold, ferocious rage focused like a laser on her back. Charlotte trembled…she wasn't alone. A deep, faintly raspy voice boomed behind her.

 

**" HUMAN...TURN AROUND..."**

Slowly, Charlotte obeyed.

A dark shape loomed in the doorway. Two pinpricks of white light, trained in her direction. Charlotte took a shaky step backwards. The pinpricks roved over the scene. When they landed on the human again they narrowed dangerously. She took a shaky step backwards. The shape advanced. Bollocks they were huge, standing nearly two feet taller than her, built big and broad—a far cry from papyrus' scarecrow build. When they drew nearer, the pinprick eyes glowed bright enough that she could make out the figure's face. A skeleton, round and wide. They wore a wide toothy grin that didn't reach their eyes. The eyes locked onto her and then… _and then…_

 _Oh. Bollocks. That rage._ Never in her life had she felt such suffocating, animosity directed at her. Not just anger but something deeper. Loathing? Charlotte drew her hands up.

_**This is what you expected isn't it? Are you really that surprised?** _

Charlotte felt hot tears sear her cheeks. _She was going to die. Oh bollocks she was going to di_ e. The only way out was behind the skeleton, past that brick wall of crackling rage. She needed to run; she could not. She needed to shout, to call out for help; she could not muster much more than a terrified whimper as her back hit the wall. _No way out. No way out. No way out. No way out. No way—_

_**There.** _

Charlotte's eyes fell on the broken scissor blade which lay forgotten on the table. All at once her mind was clear. All the fear, the rage, the uncertainly—was muffled, as though it had stepped into the other room. In its passing was a kind of detached calm. The shiny surface of the blade seemed to wink at her in the dim light. She was filled with...

The back of Charlotte's head smashed against the wall with a sickening crack and all the terror and rage came howling back into the forefront, demanding attention. She tried to shake the stars from her eyes as a deep throaty chuckle rumbled from the skeleton. Charlotte's breathing hitched. _She couldn't move. Why couldn't she move?_

**"I know what you're thinkin' pal.."**

Then all at once the skeleton was right there looming over her. His skull less than an inch from her own, nose to nose. She could feel his breath on her face. The lights had gone from his eye sockets, leaving empty black holes gaping back at her. The skeleton's grin widened.

 **"It's a baaaaad idea….** "

* * *

Aaaaaand another cliffhanger. 

 

For whatever reason, the whole time I was writing this chapter... this was all I could imagine...

 


	5. Kill or be Killed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TUMBLR for FIC: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/

Thank you all for the reviews!

 

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_“Johnny, rosin up your bow and play your fiddle hard._

_'Cause Hell's broke loose in Georgia and the Devil deals the cards._

_And if you win you get this shiny fiddle made of gold,_

_But if you lose the devil gets your soul.”_

_-The Devil went down to Georgia_

#############################################################################

 

Chapter 4: Kill or be killed

 

 

Charlotte’s body grew numb with terror, staring back into those soulless black eyes. She had to do something. Say something. Appeal to his better nature—anything. _What had papyrus called him again?_

 

“S-Sanss…” she managed to croak. The skeleton brushed a lock of hair from her face and put a finger to his teeth in a ‘shh’ gesture. He snapped his fingers.  Blue light seemed to dance around them, casting frightening shadows on the walls. His left eye began to glow with blue light. A glowing blue iris trained on her chest. He took a step backwards and made a beckoning motion with his pointer finger.

 

 _Tugging._ Something tugged in her chest, like an invisible fishing line had latched onto he. r heart and was now intent on yanking it out of her chest. She drew in a sharp gasp. It tugged, and tugged until…

Green. Green light began pouring from her chest. Suddenly she felt exposed. Vulnerable. It was like that summer where she fell asleep by the pool and got sunburnt so badly that it ached. Every time her skin so much as brushed up against anything, It sent waves of pain through her body. Charlotte felt raw. Naked. Fragile… Then she saw something floating in the center of the glow. A little emerald valentine heart the size of her palm. It pulsed, and she realized that it did so in sync with her own heartbeats.

They say that monsters can rip a person’s soul right from their chests.

Their _souls…._

_Bollocks._

Suddenly the lights flashed. Briefly, like a hiccup. Then slowly the room grew lighter again. Charlotte tried and failed to slow her breathing, but her heart was bouncing off her ribs like a pinball. She chanced a glance at sans. He wasn’t smiling anymore. His eye sockets were wide and staring, fat beads of sweat forming on his skull. He was frowning, so deeply. So… _confusedly_? Then he drew closer again reaching out a hand. Charlotte flinched—he was close enough to grab her soul. Close enough to—

 

The skeleton’s hand hovered just a few inches shy of her soul. He was squinting at it, frown growing more pronounced. He stared at the soul, so deeply that his gaze was almost a physical sensation unto itself. Charlotte felt fresh tears sear her cheeks. She felt like a bug under a microscope. Suddenly The skeleton’s eyes shot up to meet hers. The blue glow was gone from them, replaced with the familiar white dots of light. And Charlotte realized that the animosity she’d felt earlier had dissipated. All his rage had gone stale. Now he just stared at her, looking lost. Like he was seeing her for the very first time. His hand began to tremble.  The little green heart fluttered out from between his fingertips, and back into her chest. He didn’t even attempt to stop it from slipping away.

 

Suddenly whatever held Charlotte in place vanished, and she drew in a deep gasping breath, letting herself slide down along the wall onto her knees. She coughed deeply, massaging her throat. The skeleton stared. He took a few stumbling steps backwards. A comforting calm wrapped around her like a blanket, and her eyes were drawn back to the shears on the table.

 

**_Pick it up. While you still can._ **

****

Her shaky hands moved automatically towards the scissor blade. Trustingly. She picked them up and her hands stopped shaking. Her eyes darted to sans who was staring at his own shaking hands. This…wasn’t real…A sharp stab of anger flashed over her. _Anger…?_ The calmness wrapped itself around her heart. Seeming to coo and whisper sweetly in her ear.

 

**_Cut him._ **

_C-cut him…?_

 

“HUMAN! GOOD NEWS!”  Papyrus’ voice echoed through her like a splash of cold water in the face. The calmness flickered out like a candle being snuffed. She dropped the blade, eyes flashing towards familiar figure in the doorway. Relief. “UNDYNE DID NOT HAVE ANY WIRE CUTTERS BUT DR ALPHYS WAS—“

Charlotte raced across the room. Sans fell back like a house of cards when she drew near but she blew right past him and threw herself at the taller skeleton. Her face pressed into the spot where his navel would’ve been, her arms wrapping around as much of him as she could reach. 

Papyrus’ wonderful innocence surrounded her. A short burst of surprise that melted into pure joy.

 

“WOWIE!” Papyrus gently swept the human off her feet and into his arms, hugging her to his chest like a teddy bear. “HUMAN I APOLIGIZE! I DID NOT REALIZE YOU WOULD MISS THE GREAT PAPYRUS SO MUCH  IN MY ABSENSE.” He squeezed her tighter, squinting his eye sockets shut. “YOU—EH…?HUMAN? WHY ARE YOU SHAKING?” Charlotte felt sans turn to stone from across the room. “ARE YOU GETTING SICK? DID- DID THAT CUT CAUSE YOU TO BECOME ILL?” She shook her head slowly and snuck a peek in sans’ direction.

He looked like a deflated balloon. All of the terrifying emotion from before was gone as if it had never been there to begin with. In its place stood… well, _sans._ Or rather, what charlotte expected Sans was really like. In the light, his face looked far less sinister. Round, almost cartoonish. He was giving her a look that could only be described as sheepish. The human shook her head.

  _Okay._ Okay...This is the sketchy part of town. The skeleton had walked in to find a blood-stained stranger alone and looking through his private files in a room that was supposed to be locked. Not only that but she was human.  Charlotte took a deep breath. What did that make her in his eyes? A burglar? She tried to imagine what her reaction would be if she came home to a strange blood covered monster in her house. Maybe his freak out wasn’t as unreasonable as she’d thought.

 

“Its…its nothing…”Charlotte said, rubbing her red-rimmed eyes on her sleeves. “Its just…allergies…”

San’s eyes locked on hers and Charlotte thought she saw a hint of surprise. Papyrus hummed.

 

“AH WELL, ANYWAY. HUMAN! MEET MY LAZYBONES BROTHER SANS.” He introduced. “NO DOUBT HE’S BEEN ASSAULTING YOU WITH BAD PUNS SINCE HE GOT HOME. ITS BEST TO JUST IGNORE HIM.” Charlotte forced a nervous smile.

 

“Hi sans…” Charlotte said. Sans looked her up and down. Then snorted.

 

“Sup kiddo” he turned to papyrus. “So, Where’d ya find this dirty, little bitch bro?”  

 

 _What?!_ Charlotte flushed an indignant squeak escaping her lips. Sans patted a hand on top of the dog’s head and it nipped at him.

 

“OH, HE WAS HURT, SO WE BROUGHT HIM INSIDE.” Papyrus hummed. “THE HUMAN AND I ARE RESCUING HIM.”

Charlotte blinked between them. _Had he really just…?_

“It’s a ‘she’ actually.” Sans caught charlotte’s gaze and winked. _Oh. He did…._ _First he acts like he wants to kill her, then he seems confused and sorry, now he’s teasing her like their old pals? What was this? Was he being cold? Or was he trying to dissolve the tension from before? Bollocks this guy’s  mood swings were going to give her whiplash._ “Anyways, that’s cool bro, the mutt looks a little dog-eared to me.”

“SAAANS!” Papyrus let out a whine, but he didn’t seem genuinely displeased. Sans sauntered closer grinning at Charlotte.

 

“But anyway, where did you find this _human_ bro?”

 

“I FOUND HER IN THE TRASH!” Papyrus declared giving charlotte another squeeze. Charlotte reddened reminded of their uncomfortable run in in the alleyway. She suddenly realized that the skeleton had been carrying her around in his arms this entire altercation _. Awkward…_

“Eh, not too surprising, this neighborhood is practically a garbage dump _litter-ally!_ ” Sans laughed. Not the deep raspy, sinister chuckle from before—charlotte tried to push that memory from her thoughts—but it was a rich, mellow sort of sound. Warm. Friendly.

**_Insincere_ **

Charlotte pinched her temples. What was wrong with her today? In a bid to preserve whatever dignity she had, charlotte slipped down from the skeleton’s arms and dusted herself off.

 

“So um, you said you found the wire cutters?”

 

“OH YES! I WENT TO UNDYNE TO BORROW SOME BUT SHE DIDN’T HAVE ANY. BUT SHE REMEMERED SEEING SOME IN ALYPHS’ LAB, SO WE HAD TO HEAD ACROSS TOWN TO PICK THEM UP. I AM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO GET BACK. I HOPE I DID NOT LEAVE YOU ALONE FOR TOO LONG.”

Charlotte shook her head quickly.

 

“no no, its fine. Sans and I were just uh,” she sneaked a peek at san’s face but his expression was unreadable—“Getting acquainted.”

 

 

“Yeah.” Sans mused, putting his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie. “Welp I’ll leave you to it. I’d love to stay and chat but I haven’t _wheelie-bin_ paying attention.”

_Oh bollocks. She was never going to live down that garbage thing was she?_

 

“SAAANS!”

 

“See ya kid. Hope this _numskull_ doesn’t _waste_ too much of your time.” With a wink Sans slipped out the door and headed to his room.  Charlotte watched him go, more confused about the punny skeleton than ever.

 

“HE’S NOT SUCH A BAD GUY,” Papyrus sighed suddenly. Charlotte jumped. _Oh bollocks. Had he read her mind? Could monsters even—_ “HIS JOKES ARE TERRIBLE, AND HE NEVER LIFTS SO MUCH AS A FINGER WHEN IT COMES TO HOUSEWORK.  HONESTLY SOMETIMES I WONDER WHAT HE’D DO IF HE DIDN’T HAE SUCH A GREAT BROTHER LOOKING OUT FOR HIM.” He patted her shoulder. “BUT HE’S GREAT IN HIS OWN WAY. TRUST ME.” Charlotte regarded the grinning monster, head tilted. He was always smiling. Was he really so oblivious to what was happening? Or did he simply choose to ignore it? She forced a grin and patted his good hand.

 

“Sure papyrus. Uh, lets get this pooch taken care of hm?” The two of them set to work cutting through the wires on the dog’s neck.

 

“THERE! YOU’RE FREE DOGGIE! FREE!” Papyrus declared waving his arms over his head dramatically. The dog opened its eyes, gave her tail a feeble shake and closed hem again. Charlotte didn’t blame her. The dog had been frothing at the mouth when sans had come raging in. She had calmed down considerably since sans had left. The moment he was gone, the dog slumped down in exhaustion. Charlotte could definitely relate to that feeling.

 

“I think she’s still a little tired Pap.” Charlotte mused. The skeleton seemed to sag at this.  Charlotte bumped his arm with her own and smiled. “Hows about we draw this doggie a bath while you think of a name for her? Hm?” That was all it took. Papyrus had the dog in his arms and went bounding off into the hall, clamoring excitedly about getting to  use his bubblegum  scented bubble-bath and wondering which action figure the doggie would like to play with in the tub. Charlotte felt a more genuine smile taking root. _He was just like a child._ _It took so little to make him happy. Physical contact. A little smile. Then he lights up like a firefly._ Charlotte found she rather liked making him happy. She stepped out of the lab to follow him. Then stopped. Sans room was right across the hall. Door closed. She could see lights moving around underneath the door.

 

She should say something to him. They hadn’t had a chance to talk privately about what had happened…before. She should clear the air. Maybe apologize? Even if it wasn’t entirely her fault, charlotte had always found that apologizing for a bad encounter had a way of smoothing things over. She needed to settle things. Charlotte made a move towards the door but a sudden thought stopped her.

 

**_Take it with you._ **

 

She blinked, eyes drifting back to the scissor blade she’d dropped. A chill ran down her spine _. It was a misunderstanding. I don’t need it._ But the uneasy feeling didn’t go away. Steeling herself Charlotte forced herself to march over and knock on sans’ door. There was a pause. Then the door swung open.

Charlotte took an involuntary step back. Gone was the plastered smile from before. It was just the two of them. He frowned down at her, expression unreadable.

 

“Yeah?”

Charlotte bit her lip, trying to steady her heart.

 

“Eh… Hi sans.. I just wanted to um…” She shifted, lowering her eyes, unable to keep the haunting face from before out of her head. Just look down. Breathe.  It was easier to talk to her feet than him. “I just wanted to apologize..”

The skeleton grunted and she could feel him draw back slightly. She sucked in a breath and continued.

 

“I’m sorry if I…startled you before… It must’ve been heh, creepy to find a stranger in your house. I…I understand…” she shifted sneaking a peek at his face.  He just stared at her, as If he’d never seen anything like her before. “A-and I’m sorry for looking at your stuff. Papyrus had been gone for awhile. I guess I was just curious…but that was rude too huh?” she forced a hollow laugh and conked her knuckles to her skull playfully. “Duh…heh...heh…”

Silence. His eyes were on her again, roving over her face, searching for…something. He then let out a tired chuckle, posture growing less tense.

 

“heh, you really rattled my bones kiddo…”

 

“Yeah…I was um… hoping we could start over?”

 It took him a lot longer to answer that one. The silence hung long enough for charlotte to feel a bit queasy. Then he chuckled and put out a hand.

 

“Sure kiddo. Names’ Sans. Sans the skeleton.”

 

Charlotte felt her stomach do a little somersault and she smiled. Hopeful again.  _I told you I wouldn’t need it._ She thought to…no one. She didn’t know why, but she felt as though was proving something to herself. That she could still trust. That she didn’t need to be afraid. She didn’t remember taking the scissor half from the skeleton brothers house. But there it was in her pocket when she finally reached work. Later, when it got dark outside she would wonder about it. But right now...She didn’t notice the way San’s smile froze when she took his hand and shook it. She didn’t notice a lot of things. _But they happened._

 

“Names’ Sans. Sans the skeleton.”

“Its really nice to finally meet you sans”

“ And you’re name was… ‘Charlotte—something’ right?”

“mhmm. But most people just call me _Chara.”_

 

 

#############################################################################

DUN DUN DUUUUUUN!

Anyways, another cliffhanger guys.

I hope you’re enjoying this garbage as much as I enjoy writing it.

 

Let me know what you think and what your predictions are for the next chapter. Your comments give me liiiiife.

 

;)

 

Also:

I have to name this dog now… Any ideas?

It’s a pug- shitzu mix. Kinda wall-eyed. Its fur is off white. It doesn’t seem to like sans.

Give me some ideas guys.

Also…..

 

**“Where did you find this human bro?”**

**“I FOUND IT IN THE TRASH!”**

This pretty much sums up 90% of the undertale fandom in my opinion.

Feel free to visit my trashcan anytime bros.

 


	6. INTERLUDE: Sans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the first interlude. Kinda short I know. But its something to cut your teeth on before things start heating up. 
> 
> Enjoy this guys.
> 
>  
> 
> TUMBLR for FIC: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/

INTERLUDE 1: Sans

 

 

 

Her soul was _green._ Not greenish yellow. Not teal. But honest to goodness, genuine green. That was rare in in of itself. Green; the color of healing magic. Of empathy. Of **kindness.**   _Breathe. Just breathe…_

_Empathy, Kindness and healing…heh… the exact opposite of—_

Sans buried his skull in his hands. He must be losing his mind _._ After all he’d been through, was it really so suprising that he’d eventually break? He’d lived through too many resets, cried over papyrus’ dust until his emotions ran dry. _Killed **her** too many time…_

 _Green._ He reminded himself again.

 

He steadied his breathing. Focus. There were more differences than just the color weren’t there? They were older—that much was clear. And the hair was longer, darker, less ruddy than he remembered. _But those eyes…_ Sans suppressed another surge of venom. _They had the same_ damn _eyes!_

Large and childlike with long dark lashes. All soft angles. And the color—there was no mistaking it—so dark and doe-like, with a glint of something else…something the color of human blood. The color of **Determination.**

 

_Breathe. No more resets. No more resets. The kid promised him before they…before they— Just breathe….hell...just keep breathing..._

For the tenth time, sans looked over the stats he’d jotted down after their encounter. He had them memorized by now, but he _needed_ to see them again…

 

**Name: CHARA**

**LV: none**

**EXP: none**

 

That much should have been enough for him to see. For him to realize.

 

**HP: 40**

 

A bit on the low side compared to most of the adult human’s he’d encountered. Ridiculously low for **_her._**  But by monster standards, pretty good.

But then there was the defense. Holy shit that had hit him like being hit by a train....

**DEFENSE: 0**

 

How the hell was that even possible? To be so utterly defenseless? Sans knew he wasn’t one to talk, but he at least 1 defense. Even whimsum had greater defense than that. Even…

 _That stupid kid…_ She sought him out alone. Even after… Sans felt sick.  He could’ve… He almost…

Was she really that dense? Why on earth would she seek him out after what he did?!  Did she really not realize how close he’d been to ending her where she stood? He’d done it so much…so many times…If he hadn’t pulled her soul… if he hadn’t noticed…

 

No LV…

No EXP…

No DEFENSE…

 

Sans knew himself enough to know that he wouldnt’ve have held back. And without even thinking murdered a tiny friggin innocent little—

Sans’ fists clenched. Just how the hell did someone like that survive anyway? In a world like this one? _She’d sought him out alone…_ Fuck. She was waaay to weak to be so trusting. Too fragile to put her lives in the hands of someone…someone like him.

 

Green soul. _Kind soul._ That was a rarity among humans. He should have known the moment she turned around. The moment her eyes filled with fear. The fear he’d sent roaring into her. **_She…_** never showed that kind of weakness. Ever. She was always in perfect control of her emotions. Always calm. Emotionless. Cold. **Determined.**

 

Humans didn’t come with as much variety as he was used to. They were almost always about the same. Two arms, two eyes. A nose below that. A mouth. Hair in a variety of colors… Of course.

Heh. That was kinda racisist wasn’t it? Well paint me bigoted.

Sans didn’t laugh at his own joke. he closed his eyes. Of course some of them would start to look the same to him. It was just a coincidence. Of course… **She** was dead. Frisk was dead. No more determination. **_She-Chara_** was dead.   **She** was never, ever coming back.

 

“SAAANS! LOOK! THE HUMAN GAVE ME HER PHONE NUMBER!”

 

“That’s great bro.”

 

“I THINK SHE REALLY LIKES ME! DID YOU SEE THE WAY SHE HUGGED ME? SO CUUUUTE! I KNEW WE WERE DESTINED TO BE BESTEST FRIENDS!”

 

“Heh. Could be a fluke. You sure she was really trying to hug hyu-man?”

 

“NOT EVEN YOUR RIDICULOUS PUNS CAN SPOIL MY MOOD! SHE LIKES ME! SHE REALLY LIKES ME! FOR A SECOND THERE I WAS BEGINNING TO THINK THAT SHE WAS….WELL NEVERMIND! ITS NOT IMPORTANT ANYMORE! NOTHING MATTERS NO MORE! OH! HERE!” papyrus shoved his phone into san’s hands. “ COPY DOWN HER NUMBER INTO YOUR PHONE! IF YOU PROMISE NOT TO CORRUPT THE HUMAN WITH YOUR RIDICULOUS PUNS, THEN I THINK YOU SHOULD SPEND TIME WITH HER TOO!”

 

**Contact info:**

**Address: 345 blackwood st.**

**Number: xxx-xxxx-xxx**

**Contact name: CHARA**

 

“yeah bro…” Sans grinned terribly. he copied down her number and address. “I’m sure I’ll be spending a lot of time with your new friend…”

 

 

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

**WELCOME TO THE PLOT KIDDIES...**

_**BUCKLE UP.** _

  

_** ** _

 


	7. My Universe Will Never Be The Same...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howdy guys, thanks again for all the reviews and comments. Knowing someone out there is actually reading my trash really keeps me going. I’ve got a pretty short update for you today. A little story building. Plus I thought Charlotte needed a moment to breathe and think about things a little. Anyways, hopefully its not boring. Let me know what you think!  
> Also, let me know what you guys think of the new characters coming in. Especially Daphne in this chapter. What color do you think her soul is?   
> **********************************************************************************************  
> “The mind, once stretched by a new idea, never returns to its original dimensions.”
> 
>  
> 
> TUMBLR for FIC: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/
> 
> ― Ralph Waldo Emerson  
> ******************************************************************************

Chapter 5: My universe will never be the same

  
Charlotte let out a sigh of relief when she saw Daphne—the night manager behind the counter instead of her usual manager Trish. That was a surprise. Daphne was a student at the university, working through an art degree, so she worked most nights and rarely stuck around this late in the day. Charlotte wondered where she found the time to go to school and still put in 40 hours a week at the shelter. Did she ever sleep? Judging from her appearance charlotte suspected that she didn’t.

  
Daphne dressed for comfort. Always in oversized clothing and beanies. Her short, choppy hair had been blonde once. The pretty golden blonde that most women would kill for. The moment she’d turned 21 however she dyed the whole thing green with lime Kool-Aid. It was starting to fade out again near the tips. She wore dark circles beneath her blue eyes—which were always half-massed in a tired, disinterested sort of scowl. She wasn’t unfriendly per se. Just uninterested. Daphne was sitting at the front desk reading a magazine. Her dirty VANS propped lazily up on the counter.

  
“Yo.” Daphne grunted when charlotte passed her desk.

 

  
“Sorry I’m late, a bunch of stuff happened this morning” Charlotte apologized. She steeled herself for a reprimand but Daphne merely shrugged and turned back to her magazine. And that was it. No questions. No lectures. Just a shrug. But that wasn’t anything new. Daphne rarely got after anyone for anything. She never raised her voice or complained about things not getting done on time. Whenever their volunteer Annie, left the kennels uncleaned (which was nearly every weekend) Daphne would just wander over and do it for her. Charlotte wondered if Daphne had stayed so long after her shift to cover for her being late. She sagged with guilt.

 

  
“I really am sorry…” Charlotte said. “It was work related…well sort of, there was this dog and—“

 

  
“Don’t worry about it babe” Daphne grunted, with what charlotte took for amusement. “Her majesty, the Ice Queen of Narnia isn’t coming in till noon today. You’re fine.”  
Charlotte’s face flushed. Ice Queen. That was Daphne’s name for Trish the day manager. And it wasn’t too far from the mark… Trish ruled the shelter with an iron fist. She was always ready with a lecture and a frown if she found anyone slacking. She was a shrewd woman in her early thirties. To be frank, she was more or less a tall, dark haired scowl in pink scrubs.

 

“Is she sick or something?” Charlotte asked, hanging up her coat.

 

“Naw. Jury Duty.”

 

  
“Bummer…”

 

  
“Yup…” Daphne set the magazine aside and paid Charlotte a lazy glance. “Well?”  
Charlotte blinked shoulders coming up.

 

 

“Well what?”

 

  
“You said you were late because of a dog, yeah?” Daphne grunted rubbing her eye on the back of her hand.

 

  
“Right! Right, uh well she was a toy breed mutt, roughly two years old. she had some wounds around the neck and a helluva lot of fleas. Probably mange too. I didn’t have my car with me so I left her with the guy who rescued her.” Charlotte explained. Daphne nodded slowly, eyes shut. She took a long drink from a Starbucks cup then stood.

 

  
“Kay. So are we going to pick her up or is this dude going to bring her by the shelter?” Daphne asked.

 

  
“um…” Charlotte blinked. She hadn’t known if the van was there or if Dave Allard—the shelter’s vet—was even in, so she told papyrus she’d call him once she got to work and they could discuss their options. He’d seemed reluctant to let the dog out of his sight though. She dug her phone out.

 

  
“Probably, I promised I’d call him once I got here, hang on,” Charlotte dialed up papyrus’ number. She was about to press send when she froze.

  
_Oh.. right_ … Papyrus was a _monster_ … Monsters didn’t come around this part of town. Charlotte blinked shaking herself. How had she forgotten? It hadn’t seemed like an issue when she’d discussed it with him. But now…She bit her lip and glanced at Daphne who was slipping on her oversized coat.

Would Daphne be willing to drive out with her to the monster side of town? What would she think about Charlotte leaving the dog with a monster? And what about Papyrus? He was already enamored with the little fuzz ball. If they ended up bringing her to the shelter, would papyrus even be allowed to stop by and see her?

  
Charlotte pinched her temples. _Dave_ …She knew Dave did house calls when it was absolutely necessary. He was a nice enough guy and seemed to care an awful lot about animals. But.... would he really be comfortable working at a the skeleton’s house? How did her co-workers even feel about monsters living so close? _How did she feel for that matter?_

 

Charlotte sank into a chair, phone lowering. She didn’t know. She’d never thought about it before. Never _had_ to think about it before. To her it felt like having papyrus over at the shelter didn’t feel like a big deal at all. He was safe to be around—harmless. A total cinnamon bun. He wasn’t like _other monsters._

 

  
_**And you’ve met enough monsters to make that distinction have you?** _

 

  
Something in her brain seemed to sneer and Charlotte stiffened. This was…

 _Why had she never thought about this before?_ She’d never questioned why things were the way they were before. It had always just…made sense. Yes, that’s right. It made sense to keep the monsters separated. They hated human right? They ate people’s souls, wielded powerful magic that humans could only begin to understand. They were _different_ , _alien_ , _other_. They were dangerous…

_weren’t they?_

  
_He isn't._ Charlotte reminded herself. Papyrus was nothing like how people on the news described monsters. He didn’t seem angry about being imprisoned in Ebbot for so long, nor did he appear to wish humanity any ill will. He was…well, friendly. He’d been kind and welcoming right from the beginning. _Gentle. Thoughtful._

  
Charlotte rubbed her temples. If it had just been Papyrus. If Papyrus had been the only monster to come out from ebbot. If he’d been the only one humanity was so keen on keeping away, then Charlotte would have thought this whole separation business was ridiculous. But wasn’t that just because she knew him? When she’d first seen him she’d been terrified. She’d wanted to keep him as far away from her as possible. But now…

  
Now the idea of someone—anyone being afraid of him left a bad taste in her mouth. It was _wrong._ It would— _oh bollocks_ —it would hurt his feelings, wouldn’t it? Papyrus was too innocent. Too kind for that sort of treatment. The more Charlotte thought about it the more sick she began to feel. The thought of someone hating him, of barring him entrance into their store, or library—of them avoiding his eyes, of treating him like he was some sort of monst-

  
_Oh…_

 

  
_Oh Bollocks…_

 

 

“You okay babe?” Daphne grunted. “You kinda went quiet there for a minute.”

  
Charlotte didn’t reply. Something was breaking—shattering to bits somewhere deep inside of her. Everything was different now… wasn’t it? When had the world changed so much? When had she changed? Charlotte wanted to stop her world from shifting, wanted to reach out and hold onto the way things were for just a little longer. _She wanted to be ignorant. She wanted to be happy. She wanted to be blameless…_

  
But…

 

  
_…But…_

 

  
**_…But…_ **

 

 

_**That’s selfish. Isn’t it greenie?** _

 

 

This morning everything was fine. The monsters were far away. They didn’t live where she lived. Didn’t shop where she shopped. They didn’t have names. They didn’t have warm voices and kind eyes. They didn’t tell the worst jokes or give the best best hugs. _They weren’t people._

And now that they were; now that she knew.

  
_Things weren’t okay anymore._

 

“Earth to Chara,” Daphne conked Charlotte on the head with her sketchbook. “You having a seizure or somethin?” Charlotte shook her head slowly. “Heh. That’s a relief. The only medical no-how I’ve got is docking ears, tails and neutering shit. An’ somehow I don’t think that’d help.” Charlotte felt something slug her shoulder—Daphne’s closest approximation to affection she guessed. Charlotte took a deep breath and looked up at her manager. She let out a nervous laugh.

 

  
“Hey Daphne…so uh…how do you feel about monsters?” 

 


	8. Chapter 6: Patient Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here’s another quick update. Hope you guys are enjoying this. I've been introducing a lot of original characters into this. I know some people hate it when writers do that, so I really hope its not too annoying. Don't worry, you'll still be seeing tons of the main cast too. I just need some ocs to make the plot work. If you have any predictions or suggestions please let me know.  
> TUMBLR for FIC: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/  
> ***************************************************************************
> 
> “You get the chicken by hatching the egg, not by smashing it.”  
> \- Arnold H. Glasow  
> ***************************************************************************************************

Chapter 6: Patient Soul

 

 

Daphne Job was not the type of person who got rattled easy.

A few months earlier—when charlotte and Daphne were little more than strangers—some local scrap metal yard went under. Several of the company’s guard dogs ended up at the shelter. They weren’t bad dogs really. Heck, Charlotte thought they were the smartest, most obedient dogs she’d ever worked with.. Brady—a brawny Doberman sat up perfectly still on the examination table while Charlotte removed his microchips. She was In the middle of doing this when… _it happened._ Charlotte heard the backdoor open and Annie came in leading another Doberman with a loop pole.

 

In Annie’s defense, she was only 15 years old at the time and had been volunteering with the shelter for less than a month. She couldn’t have known what would happen.

 

With a crash and a flurry of snarls the examination table toppled over and Brady charged the other dog before Charlotte could even make a sound. In an instant the two animals connected in a clash of teeth. Then came the confusion. Snarling. Fighting. Ripping. Annie was the first to let out a scream. She tugged on the pole trying to pull the enraged dog back. But with all the jerking and thrashing, it was all the poor girl could do to keep ahold of it. Charlotte ran for a spray can and doused the dogs with water. They hardly seemed to notice they were so enraged. Panicking now charlotte ran into the back room to fill up a water bucket. But then out of the clear blue she heard a yip and a scream from Annie.

 

 _Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks._ Was all her frantic brain could manage. _They bit someone. They bit someone_! But when she turned the corner she found…Daphne.

Daphne grabbed Brady by the scruff and wrenched him away from the other dog—effectively separating the two animals. In an instant she had pinned Brady on his back. Her legs straddled his sides to keep him in place. She had some kind of hold on the dog’s neck and seemed to be using all of her weight to keep his chomping, foaming head pinned to the ground. The other dog strained at the pole, still all teeth and growls, but Annie—bless her—had somehow managed to keep ahold of his pole, keeping him out of mauling distance from Daphne and Brady. Brady thrashed and foamed, white visible all around his wild eyes, and Daphne seemed to be having trouble keeping him down.

 

“Put him in the kennel.” Daphne grunted. She didn’t raise her voice, But Annie and charlotte flinched and stumbled to obey as if she had. Working together they heaved the dog back towards its cage. All the while Charlotte heaved with terror. The dog grappled with this pole still trying to get at Brady, but they had a good 6 feet of pole separating them from his jaws. Daphne had nothing.

Charlotte forced the animal into the kennel. She dug a tranquillizer from Dave’s desk and went charging back into the room.

 

Remarkably, Daphne had kept her position atop the enraged dog and somehow managed to keep him pinned to the ground with all ten fingers intact. And even more amazingly, she had managed to get a muzzle onto his face. Charlotte fumbled with the tranc, but Daphne raised a hand.

 

“He can’t bite. Don’t waste it.” she grunted. “Just wait.”

 

That was easier said than done, Charlotte hovered over the scene. But Daphne just kept her position holding the dog down, waiting. Completely calm. After what seemed like ages the dog let out a tired snort and calmed, its glossy black fur shining with sweat. Daphne then scratched his ears and stood up, clipping a leash onto his collar.

 

“Hey. He get ya?” Daphne grunted. Her impassive voice taking on a slight edge. “The dogs. They bite either of you?”

 

“N-no..” Charlotte breathed. Annie, who was shaking from her toes to the end of her little blonde braids shook her head. Daphne’s shoulders relaxed.

 

“Good.” She grunted lugging Brady towards his cag. “Means we don’t have to put either of em down…”

 

To say that Daphne’s performance caused a stir around the shelter would be an understatement. Dave was positively scandalized when he heard about what happened, and he scoured all three of them for injuries. Annie was considerably rattled, and she took some time off from her volunteer work. It would be weeks before she could go near Brady’s kennel again. But no one took the news with more alarm than Trish—the day manager.

For more than a quarter of an hour, she ranted and yelled at Daphne for being reckless and stupid. At times her voice grew so shrill and loud that some of the dogs began to howl.

Charlotte didn’t much like Trish at the best of times, but listening to her rave and lecture Daphne just rubbed her the wrong way. Trish and Daphne were both managers. Trish didn’t have any right to boss her around like she did with Charlotte and Annie. But true to form Daphne didn’t seem to care one way or another and just stood there and listened. Her eyes half-mast as if she was ready to fall asleep in spite of the screeching.

It wasn’t until later when Charlotte was mopping out the kennels with Daphne that she worked up the courage to say something.

 

“How did you do that?” Charlotte muttered. Daphne grunted.

“Eh. I used to work at a Doberman kennel back home. Some of those dogs can get a little loco.”

 

“But you just…grabbed him…What if he’d bitten you?”

 

“Sometimes when they start seein’ red like that, spray bottles don’t cut it. When they fight like that—it’s not something you can just ignore. Dogs like that will fight until they kill each other.”

Charlotte considered this. But decided to let the matter drop. They worked in silence for a good while. When Charlotte went to fill up the mop bucket Daphne called her back.

 

“Hey. Chara.” Daphne grunted causing Charlotte to pause. “What I did back there was real stupid. Don’t you ever try something like that yourself. Ever. Ya hear?”

 

Charlotte nodded.

 

Daphne wasn’t the type to get rattled easy. She was probably the bravest person Charlotte had ever met. But it was more than just bravery. She never raised her voice, never got irritated with anyone. She sat there and listened to Trish verbally rip her a new one without so much as a word. Charlotte wasn’t sure she could have stayed so calm with the ice queen breathing down her neck like that. How did Daphne do it? No matter what happened, Daphne was always filled with **Patience.**

******

“So Daphne, what do you think of monsters?”

 

Charlotte felt more than a little anxious asking. And she watched Daphne’s face. Looking for some kind of reaction. A scowl of disgust, a frown—anything. But Daphne just glanced at Charlotte and blinked slowly in that ‘too tired to care’ way of hers. Charlotte played with the hem of her shirt as Daphne looked her up and down.

“They’re big” Daphne grunted.

 

“Big…?”

 

“Yeah. Like friggin huge.” Again Daphne shrugged. Charlotte studied her, sucking in her cheeks. _That’s one hell of a poker face…_

“And…? What else do you think of them?” she pressed Daphne turned her body till it was facing Charlotte.

“Some of em look like furries” Daphne nodded. “And others look like they belong on the cover of a meatloaf album.” A smirk ghosted across Daphne’s face and Charlotte huffed.

“Anything else…?”

“My mom and dad think they’re a sign of some biblical apocalypse thing. All fire n’ brimstone.” Daphne mused. “Started filling our storm cellar with water and  MRE’s  like it’s the friggin cold war.”

 

“I’m serious Daphne.” Charlotte groaned.

 

“Why is this so important to you all of a sudden?” Daphne grunted impassive as usual. Charlotte started backpedaling

“uh…”

BIIIIING! Charlotte’s phone buzzed cutting her off. _saved by the bell._ Charlotte fumbled to get it out, thankful for the distraction. She answered without even glancing at the id.

 

“Hello?”

 

“HUMAN! IT IS I THE GREAT PAPYRUS!” The voice came out so loud that charlotte jumped and drew the phone away from her ear. She cast a mortified glance towards Daphne. The green haired girl raised a brow. “ I KNOW THAT WE AGREED THAT YOU WOULD CALL ME WHEN YOU REACHED YOUR PLACE OF EMPLOYMENT, BUT I HAVE WONDERFUL NEWS! I HAVE FINALLY DECIDED ON A NAME FOR THE DOGGIE!”

Charlotte rubbed her temples. “That’s really great Pap—“

“OH OH! PERFECT! HUMAN, SANS HAS JUST ARRIVED HOME FROM WORK, LET ME PUT YOU ON SPEAKER PHONE.” There was a shuffling sound then a click. “IT’S THE HUMAN, SAY HI SANS.” The

“Hi Sans.” smaller skeleton’s deep voice rumbled in the background. Papyrus made a noise.

“SANS NO JOKES!” Papyrus groaned.

“Okay. so _sans_ no Sans jokes is…” Sans hummed thoughtfully. “You’re saying you want me to make more jokes? I’m not too good with the whole double negative thing.”

“YOU’RE IMPOSSIBLE!”

“I thought I was sans?”

 

“So um, papyrus..” Charlotte interjected before the tall skeleton could spiral into another wave of bickering. “What did you decide to name the dog?”

 

“AH YES! I HAVE FOUND A TITLE TRULY BEFITTING OF HER GREATNESS.” Papyrus declared, instantly forgetting his squabble with sans. “I HAVE DECIDED TO NAME HER DOGGIE. WHAT DO YOU THINK?”

Charlotte squinted. Daphne who seemed to catch every other word thanks to papyrus’ volume paid her a measuring look.

“Doggie… Gee paps, I don’t know. Don’t you think it’s a little strange?”

“STRANGE?”

“You know, naming a dog ‘doggie’.”

“I DON’T FOLLOW.”

“I don’t know. It’s just, not really a name.” Charlotte tried to explain. “I mean you’re just calling her what she is, right? Isn’t that’s like calling a human ‘human’? I—wait…”

_Oh…_

Sans laugher roared in the background. Charlotte folded her arms self-consciously, well aware of Daphne’s eyes on her. _Bollocks._ She had only known sans for a few hours, but it still seemed like he laughed the hardest when she—herself was the punchline.

 

“SANS! GET UP OFF THE FLOOR AND STOP LAUGHING! I CAN’T HEAR THE HUMAN!—SORRY HUMAN, WHAT WERE YOU SAYING?”

“Nothing pap. I think Doggie’s a perfect name. Very…fitting.” Charlotte said hurriedly trying to pat the blush from her cheeks. Sans, though he’d quieted a bit, made no attempts to stifle his laugher. She cleared her throat.

“So uh, speaking of Doggie, I’m just waiting on the resident Vet to come into work so we’ll know what our options are. You’ll probably need to come drop Doggie off at the shelter.” Charlotte explained.

Sans stopped laughing abruptly.

“Not a good idea.” He grunted. “See if you can get the Doc to make a house call over here or somethin”

Charlotte shifted. Dave probably wouldn’t go for that…

 

“Oh, eh maybe… but would it be y’know…safe..?” Charlotte cringed at how awkward that sounded. “…for y’know…people like us..?”

Sans chuckled. Not his ‘I just made a joke’ laugh. Not his ‘poking fun at Chara’ laugh either. This one was humorless. Deep. Cold.

 

“ _Kiddie_ …we’ve got more to worry about on your streets.” He chuckled darkly. “Trust me on that…”

Charlotte felt a cold finger of chills trace down her spine.

 

“I WOULD LOVE TO MEET YOUR DOCTOR FRIEND HUMAN” Papyrus threw in. “YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS ARE WELCOME TO OUR HOME ANYTIME.”

 

“Thanks paps…” Charlotte took a deep breath. “Listen I’ll text you once I know what’s going on. Take good care of Doggie in the meantime okay?”

 

“YOU CAN COUNT ON ME!” papyrus declared, seemingly giddy with joy. Charlotte smiled weakly.

 

“Talk to you later?”

 

“OKAY! BYE BYE SMALL HUMAN!”

 

“Bye…”

_Click._

 

Charlotte slipped the phone back into her pocket. Daphne was leaning against the wall, looking tired as always. Charlotte twiddled her thumbs. _Bollocks. How she was even supposed to begin to explain all that?_

“So…” Daphne began.

“So…”  Charlotte repeated rocking on her heels. Daphne quirked a brow, looking charlotte up and down.

then she snorted.

 

“So. what kind of monsters are they, these friends of yours?” Daphne asked . “Meatloaf or Furry?”

 

Charlotte felt the tension leave her body.

“Meatloaf…” She said shyly. Daphne grunted again, her smirk returning. She headed back to her desk.

 

“ friggin sick.”

 

 

*******************************************************************8888

So, here's what we know so far...

 

dunno. Pictures help me keep it all straight. ;)

 


	9. Chapter 7: Snared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TUMBLR for FIC: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hey guys, thanks for being patient. I know this is kind of a slow building train wreck right now.—or at least that’s how it feels writing it—So I want to thank y’all for sticking with this clunker of a fic. Hopefully you are not disappointed.  
> Also, I’m posting this at 1 am my time and I haven’t really done much spell checking or proofreading. So if you see any mistakes, feel free to let me know and I’ll get em on my second sweep. 
> 
>  
> 
> @Hannah: you have no idea how happy getting comments like yours makes me. Its so awesome to know that someone out there actually enjoys my drabbles. Thank you so much for your support. I will try not to disappoint. As for Frisk, It’ll be explained in the chapters to come. There’s a reason for it, trust me. And don’t worry, Toriel will be joining us soon enough. 
> 
> @Aftertale Sans: awesome! Your wish is my command. Welcome aboard the feels train. ;)

Chapter 7: Snared

 

 

 

“What on earth were you thinking Miss Charlotte? Is this some kind of joke?”

To his credit—Dave didn’t yell, per se. The Doc scarcely had the heart to raise his voice to an animal, let alone an employee. Rather he just sort of huffed his disapprobation like a tank engine, puffing out his words as he paced back and forth, pausing ever so often to glance at Charlotte, and gesture wildly.

“We can’t have those things hanging around here!” He huffed. “We don’t need people saying things…”

Charlotte bowed her head nervously, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. She’d known that Dave wouldn’t be too keen on catering to monsters. Yesterday she would have said the same thing. But… She hadn’t expected her boss’ vehement disapproval to sting as much as it did.

 

“Maybe I could…” she trailed off in a small voice. Dave was already shaking his head no. “I know where they live and all… we could just m-make a house call. Nobody would have to know about it. They just want to help the dog. They’re not going to do anything bad…”

“Chara…” Dave ran a hand through his messy black hair. His initial anger now spent. He looked tired. Older somehow, like stress had lined his face long before its time. He sank into the chair across from hers and slapped a newspaper down on the desk before her. “They found that girl last night.”

 

“Girl?”

 

“That college kid from north Ebbot. The one who went missing a few weeks back. They found her body last night in a dumpster behind some monster bar. All torn to pieces.” Dave massaged his temples. “I know that most kids your age don’t often read the morning paper. But maybe you should have a look…”

Charlotte stared numbly down at the article. It wasn’t like she lived in a bubble. She’d seen the news reports on TV about young people in town going missing. Heard the whispers in the subways and on the streets, rumors of monster involvement. Talk of foul play. Charlotte looked away. Dave let out a long sigh.

 

“Apparently the kid was so mutilated that they had to run the dental records to prove that it was even human.” Dave put his hands on his hips. Charlotte tasted hot bile in the back of her throat. “And you wanna invite those creatures here? Really Chara?”

 

“They’re not— papyrus is my friend.” Charlotte swore silently feeling the beginnings of hot tears forming in her eyes. Oh bollocks, she was terrible at this… “Just because some monsters may have—it doesn’t mean that he had anything to do with—listen, I know him okay? Papyrus isn’t like that. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

 

Dave pinched his temples, letting out a low huffing sigh. Charlotte sniffled embarrassingly. She wiped the evidence on her sleeve. Then it came. That calm, buzzing feeling in her chest. It wasn’t a physical change. Just a feeling. Like someone had just stepped into the room while her back was turned. Charlotte glanced around but it was only her and Dave in the crampt little office.

Then came the words. Unmistakable. They formed so clearly in her mind that it was almost like a voice, whispering in her ear. Charlotte felt a chill at the words.

**_Lie._ **

_Lie?_

**_Tell Dave you’ve known the bone bag since he moved into the city._ **

 

“Just how long have you known this fellow Miss Charlotte?” Dave’s voice was distant. Charlotte could barely hear it over the pounding over own heart. The voice pressed on, becoming clearer with every new word.

**_If you want to have your way you’re going to have to bend the truth greenie. Simple as that._ **

_Greenie…?_

 

“Miss Charlotte are you listening to me?”

_This…isn’t real…_

**_You met a giant skeletal monster alone in a dark alleyway, four hours later you’re vouching for him like you’re old friends?_** The—whatever it was—seemed to scoff.  

I can’t lie to my boss…

 

“Chara…?”

 ** _Just what do you think Dave will think of that?_** **_You’re an idiot_ Greenie. _And only an idiot would trust your judgement._**

But I-

**_Can do this._ **

Charlotte felt sick to her stomach.

 

“Chara?”

**_Greenie_ **

**_GREENIE!_ **

W-what?!

**_He’s speaking to you._ **

 

“O-oh!” Charlotte stood abruptly, wincing at the sound of hearing her voice out loud. “S-sorry sir, what were you saying?” She put on a smile. Her hands shook.

Dave gave her a long hard look, brows knitted up with concern. He reached over and pulled the newspaper away, hiding it from view in his coat pocket.

“I’m sorry Miss Charlotte. I shouldn’t have said anything about that girl. You’re such a sensitive kindhearted young lady. I should have realized it would disturb you. Please forgive me.” He sighed. “I just don’t want to open the paper some morning and learn that they found you in a dumpster behind some seedy monster bar.” Dave sighed patting Charlotte’s shoulder in a fatherly sort of way.

 

“I-I won’t… Papyrus isn’t—he’s my friend”

 

“May be.” Dave nodded. “But Even if your friend is the exception, that neighborhood is bad news Chara. I can’t allow  you to put yourself in that kind of situation over a dog. Do you understand?

 

Charlotte nodded miserably, and wished she could shrink in on herself and disappear. Or melt into a puddle and sink down through the floorboards.  Dave nodded and rose, in a ‘that’s that’ sort of gesture. Charlotte felt stupid. She felt confused, embarrassed and wrong. She wanted to reason with Dave. To make him understand how…how _wrong_ everything was. But the words never made it to her tongue. The calm feeling grew.

**_I can help._ **

Charlotte stiffened.

w-what..?

**_I can say what you can’t Greenie. Trust me._ **

_W-who are you…?_

**_You know…_ **

_I-I don’t understand._

**_You don’t have to right away. All you have to do is_ **

**_L e t   m e   I n…._ **

 

Dave leaned down to give Charlotte one more pat on the shoulder before turning away. He was _leaving._

 ** _“Dave…”_** charlotte felt her lips moving, felt the air leave her mouth, felt her vocal chords tighten and contract as her tongue formed words. _But that wasn’t her voice._

 ** _“I’m sorry to have upset you. But what I said before still stands._** **_Papyrus is harmless. If you don’t trust him I understand”_** Her voice was calm and level headed—hell it could have given Daphne a run for her money. It sounded confident, smooth—with just a taste of disappointment that caused Dave to pause and turn around. Pins and needles. The feeling came over Charlotte’s arm. And without her permission, her hand slid up and touched Dave’s shoulder, her eyes meeting his. **_“..I But I hoped that after all the years we’ve worked together you could have at least trust ME, Dave.”_** A brief flicker of guilt behind Dave’s eyes. But before he could respond, Charlotte’s hand slid from his shoulder with a calm sigh.

**“I understand perfectly if you do not want monsters hanging around here. And I don’t blame you for not wanting me to take this case. You’re just trying to be a good boss. I will respect your wishes and not use company time or resources to work on this case. However…”** Charlotte looked down her nose at the man—something she had never ever done to anyone. Her head swam. But her voice came out smooth and calm ** _. “What I do in my free time is my business. If you will not allow me to treat this animal during work then I will wait till I clock off. If I you do not want me to use the company truck, or medical supplies then I will respect that. I can always walk. Thank you for looking out for me sir. I won’t mention this again.”_**

She inclined her head and turned to leave. Dave stood frozen in place, mouth slightly open. Outwardly charlotte was calm and collected, but inside she was stammering like a broken record.  

_What…was that…?_

The voice in Charlotte’s head seemed to let out a low whistle and the pins and needle feeling faded.

 

“Wait…” A large hand fell onto her shoulder. Charlotte glanced back.

“I really can’t stop you can I?” Dave ran a hand through his messy hair, shoulders slumped, eyes downcast.  “I’ve never seen you this determined Chara. Heh. You’re just too good for this damn world aren’t cha kid?” he let out a deep sigh. “I’ll go pack up the van. We’ll head out as soon as Trish Clocks in.” Charlotte watched him shuffle off to get his medical bag. Somewhere deep inside, she could feel the presence smirking.

 

##############################

 

The next few hours of work were a blur. Charlotte kept herself as busy as possible, scrubbing out the kennels, feeding the animals. Charlotte was on her hands and knees scrubbing a black stain on the floor of one of the cages. The kennel was unnaturally quiet, all Charlotte could hear was the scriting of her brush against the sterile white tile.  She scrubbed until her hands felt raw and pruned. _Don’t think about it._ She repeated it like a mantra. It worked for a while. Between scrubbing and toting water, she could almost forget. Almost feel like nothing had changed at all. Then came the buzzing calm.

 

**_You’re not insane._ **

****

The mop bucket in charlotte’s hands clattered to the ground sloshing dirty water onto the fronts of her pants. Charlotte let out a tiny yip, her hands clapping down over her ears _. It was back._

“What are you..?” She whispered to the open air.

 ** _Magic._** It was accompanied by an electric sort of feeling that spread to the tips of her fingers and toes. She sucked in a breath at the familiarity. Where had she felt that before? Where…?

The memory of a dark room crashed over her like a bucket of freezing water. Electricity. Electricity in her bones. In the tips of her hair. _She was a live wire._ A terrible smile just a breath away from her face. A single, burning blue eye. Charlotte steadied her breathing at the memory. The memory of magic…

Recognition came first, then relief. Nothing about this made sense. But she knew she wasn’t insane. She could cling to that understanding like a lifeline. I’m not crazy…

Charlotte sank to her knees and began cleaning up the spilled water, scrubbing automatically—robotically as her brain groped to wrap around everything else. Magic…

 _Are you…Sans' Magic?_  Charlotte thought to the voice. It seemed to stiffen at the mention of the skeletal monster.

**_I’m your magic._** It corrected. Charlotte’s head came up.

****

_Humans don’t have magic._

**_But they did once, didn’t they Greenie?_** Charlotte frowned. That was true wasn’t it? Humans were the ones who built the barrier weren’t they.

 

 **Humans had magic before the barrier. After it went up the magic bled dry, growing less and less powerful with each new generation until it was practically nonexistent.** The voice hummed thoughtfully. _**Why do you think that is?**_

Charlotte shook her head.

**_Because we didn’t NEED it anymore. Humans only really need magic to protect themselves from monsters. No monsters, means no magic._ **

Charlotte squinted trying to make sense of it.

**_Think of magic like a normal part of your body. A muscle. If you never use it, eventually it will begin to atrophy._ **

_This isn’t real…_ Charlotte groped for understanding. Just something solid to stand on.  

_W-why me? Why is this happening now?_

The voice-magic-thing hardened. Charlotte felt an inexplicable stab of loathing. The intensity surprised her.

**_That comedian…_ **

_Sans…?_

**_You never needed me until that comedian came along. Until he decided to yank your soul out of your chest and leave you there wriggling and exposed like a snail out of its shell._ **

Charlotte shivered at the comparison.

 ** _He could have crushed you greenie. And you would have just sat there and let him._** The accusing tone made Charlotte shrink back. **_But lucky for you he knocked something loose. It’s about time you grew a backbone…_**

Charlotte pinched her eyes shut. It was right. Wasn’t it? She’d never had any Spidey sense. That’s what people said about her wasn’t it? That she was too naïve, too trusting to be allowed to make her own decisions? And they were right. Charlotte sank to her knees clenching and unclenching her fists against her wet pant legs. He’d attacked her… and she’d just stood there with her mouth hanging open as he ripped out her soul. Too stupid to survive…

 

 ** _It’s not your fault._** Suddenly the voice was soft and comforting, like being wrapped up in a blanket straight out of the dryer. Charlotte sniffled. **_It’s okay._ I’m _here now._**

And Charlotte trusted it. The voice had brought clarity. It urged her to action. It alerted her to dangers she wouldn’t have even considered. It did what she would have been too afraid to try, said what she couldn’t. It protected her. Could this…this thing really be what she’d been missing her entire life?

Charlotte squinted her eyes shut once again, breathing slowly. Searching. The voice was pulsing from her chest. Right next to her soul. But it was separate somehow. The presence had stayed with her even when San’s had pulled her soul. That tiny presence. Charlotte saw a glow of red flutter behind her eyelids. Then it was gone. She opened her eyes.

“T-thank you.” Charlotte whispered out loud. “I…I don’t understand exactly what happened. But you…you protected me didn’t you?”

**_Don’t think of us as separate people. I am a part of you. An instinct maybe—your common sense. If you acted on those instincts then it was your choice. Not anything I did._ **

****

Charlotte shook her head.

“N-no, I could never have talked like that to Dave. I-I’m not clever enough to—“a scoff—

**_Clearly you are._ **

Charlotte breathed out slowly looking at her raw pink hands. It was all so strange. She was just…Chara. Stupidly trusting, scatterbrained Chara. She was the girl who took the long way through monster territory because the subway crowds made her feel sick. She was the kid who couldn’t buy clothes second-hand because no matter how many times she washed them they still ‘felt’ like the previous owner. She was Chara—the sentimental simpleton who cried for over an hour after watching Toy story 3 for the first time. Sensitive, timid, trusting useless _Chara._

But…

But.

That magic—this confusing thing that claimed it was a part of her—Strong. Calm. Charismatic. In control. Could something like that really have been inside of someone like her? She’d spent her whole life painfully aware of all the ways she wish she wasn’t.  She always wished she could be strong, clever, determined. But she knew she wasn’t. The presence caressed her soul, running down its length like stroking a kitten.

****

**_I’m you…If you think that I am strong, and clever and determined, Greenie. Then you must be too._ **

****

A tear bit Charlotte’s cheek. She’d always been such a crybaby. Hadn’t she?

_That… that’s really clever voice…_

**_Naturally._** Charlotte’s lips twitched with sudden mirth.

 _Glad I thought of it…_ Charlotte felt the presence snort dryly.

**_That’s the spirit, greenie._ **

 Charlotte laughed. It felt good to laugh. 

**The more you trust my guidance—the more you let me in… the less of a difference there will be between you and I. You won’t feel like you’ve got two people in your head. And greenie, you won’t be afraid anymore.**

Charlotte felt herself beginning to smile. She really did feel better after talking to the magic.

 

 ** _You’re meeting yourself for the first time. Your true self—greenie. The person you were meant to be. Everything is going to be better now._** Charlotte felt herself sink into the warmth and comfort the magic provided. For the first time in forever, she felt special. Worthwhile. **Determined.** The magic cooed, sinking deeper.

****

**_I know it’s confusing now. But soon everything make sense. And one day you’ll be able to look into the mirror and say ‘it’s me—_ Chara _’._**

 

 

**_##########################################################################################################33_ **

**_Thats not comforting. Thats not comforting at all... '_ **

 

**_well crap bros, Chara finally rears her ugly head. This does not bode well._ **

 

**_I always wondered how Chara managed to convince someone as kind and gentle as frisk to commit such atrocities. My guess is that they've got a silver tongue in that creepy little mouth of theirs. So this is my take on Chara I guess. smooth, charismatic, manipulative and dangerously determined._ **

 

**_Thats just how I see it anyways. You guys let me know what you think of this interpretation. Kay?_ **

****

**_ _ **

 

 

****

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 8: The Good People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TUMBLR for FIC: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/

**AN: H-hey guys… *dodges rotten vegetables* I know, I know! I promised the skelebros would be in this chapter. But a certain SOMEBODY, decided to derail the chapter with their OWN nonsensical little cameo. I blame them.**

**This is already a long chapter, and I couldn’t figure out else to cut it without it feeling to jarring. So…heh… sorry, that’s all I got folks. Expect Skelebros in the next chapter and enjoy an early release of a super long chapter in the meantime.**

**That being said, I really appreciate your guys’ feedback. I have some concerns about how this story is flowing. ..**

**What do you guys think of Dave?**

**Does Chara seem to OOC to you?**

**What do you hope to see in the next few chapters?**

**What are your predictions?**

**Kay…**

**I’m gonna go hide in a hole now…**

 

###############################################################################3

**@[RubyDracoGirl](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2194423/RubyDracoGirl): glad you’re enjoying it. No, don’t worry, the kid in the dumpster wasn’t frisk. That’s waaaay too horrible. (Even for me to write.) Frisk will be explained soon enough. Stay determined. ;)**

**@[MaliciousGravy](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/3292582/MaliciousGravy): yeah I noticed that too. Heh. That’s what I get for updating at 2 am huh? Anyway I’m glad you’re enjoying the twistiness of this twist. **

#### @ [Tangibility](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangibility/pseuds/Tangibility): I love dramatic irony. So sooo much.  ^^  let me know if Chara gets too OOC.

#### @ [BirdyBones](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdyBones/pseuds/BirdyBones): aww, nothing like a fresh cup of reader tears to start off a day right. ;)   I’m glad you’re enjoying Chara anyway. Its creepy, I know she’s an evil little tartlet—heck, I’m writing her— but sometimes I feel a little taken in by her personality.  Guess I just have a lot of _Sympathy for the Devil_! Eeeey!....

#### ……..

#### …………………………….

#### I’ll show myself out…

 

#####################################################################################

 

Chapter 8: The good people

 

 

 

“Remind me again why you’re here Miss Job?” Dave huffed from his place at the driver’s seat.

“What do you mean boss?” Daphne grunted. “Chara’s coming.”

 

“Miss Charlotte has to come along—she is our only contact with the monst- with the patrons.” Dave glanced at her from the rearview mirror. “This is a dangerous case miss Job. I am not comfortable with my employees taking unnecessary risks.”

 

“Sure sounded dangerous from what I heard.” Daphne grunted dryly, pulling her headphones back on. “Especially for us –how did he put it again?—‘tiny-doggie-fixing-humans.’” She winked at Charlotte before turning her music up and zoning out of the conversation.

 

Charlotte grinned. She felt ten times better about this house call to papyrus’ flat now that she knew Daphne would be coming too. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Dave. She was just nervous about how he would react to an eight foot skeleton—especially one as exuberant as Papyrus. It was cause for some pause. The way Dave talked about monsters made her cringe. What if he said something unkind in front of Papyrus? The more she played out the different scenarios in her head—the more her stomach began to churn with worry. She pinched her eyes shut and took a deep breath.

 

_Red…?_

**_What is it Greenie?_ **

_You don’t think that Dave would hurt Papyrus if he gets scared…do you?_  

**_That’s a possibility._ **

_But Dave is so nice. I mean I’ve seen him stay up all night trying to get half-starved puppies to nurse._

**_Oh?_ **

_Up until now I’ve never known him say a bad thing about anyone. Not even when Trish leaves her cigarette buds in his potted plants. But now… well you heard him. He called Papyrus a ‘thing.’_

**_You’ve called him worse. Just not out loud._** Charlotte flinched.

 _That was different. It was before I knew him…_ She shook her head in frustration.

_You know what I mean. This is all uncharted territory for me. Feels I don’t even know my friends anymore…._

_Oh bollocks that sounds terrible… What I’m trying to say is, I know that Dave is a good person and all, but I don’t know how accepting he will be about this. I never had to worry with him till now.  It’s just frustrating._  

The voice sighed and charlotte could feel its presence stroke her soul comfortingly.

 ** _Oh Greenie...Welcome to reality. It’s ugly. We’re all ugly deep down._** The voice sounded almost… _bitter._ Where did _that_ come from?

 

_What do you mean…?_

**_I mean that people are sick Greenie. And those good people of yours—they are the worst of all._ **

_Why?_

**_Because in the end, most people are ‘good people’ but it doesn’t matter how nice they seem, or how many three-legged puppies they save from drowning—there still something rotten in them. They’re still part of the problem._ **

Charlotte frowned. She thought back to how Dave had barred the monsters access to his animal shelter. Come to think of it, most stores and restaurants in town had ani-monster signs and notices. The sweet old lady at the cafe who always adds an extra shot of salted caramel to Charlotte’s morning coffee—she had a human’s only sign hanging in her window. Charlotte’s head began to ache.

 

 _You’re right…._ Charlotte felt Red let out an approving hum at this _._

_I think…I think that most people are basically good—like Dave. But it’s like you said, he’s part of the problem too. Good people do lots of bad things without even realizing that they’re bad._

Charlotte looked out the window, watching the houses pass and the human pedestrians begin to thin in numbers. They were approaching monster territory.

_Most people aren’t really malicious or going out of their way to cause anyone pain but they still do._

 

 ** _You’re right Greenie._** The presence curled closer, cooing softly. **_What are we gonna do about it?_**

Charlotte’s head came up.

_We?_

**_You said it yourself, people are a part of the problem. But what about us? Are we part of the sickness?_ **

**_Or are we the cure?_ **

****

“We’re here”

Charlotte sat up quickly. The truck had come to a stop.

 

**_Just think about it greenie._ **

 

 Charlotte didn’t respond. She just hurried out of the truck and went to help Dave unpack. She tried hefting one of the medical bags up but Dave swatted at her, waving her off.

 

“Too heavy for you. Turn loose. I’ve got this.”

 

“Don’t hurt yourself old man.” Daphne grunted. She and charlotte started off towards the apartment complex. Daphne wore her trademark disinterested scowl but Charlotte noticed the way her eyes kept roving the area, and the way she kept close to Charlotte—their arms almost brushed as they walked.  Maybe she wasn’t as relaxed as she let on. They reached the double doors to the lobby, and charlotte stepped up to open them. They didn’t budge. She tried again. Locked? Then she noticed the card reader on the door pane.

Oh…That’s right...

The first time she came here she had papyrus to let her in. Okay… She glanced around for a callbox. Maybe she had to be buzzed into the apartment building. Sure enough, a relatively new looking callbox stuck out from the wall with neatly printed little flat number cards identifying each flat.

Only problem was that _there was a spear sticking out of it._

Charlotte did a double take. When the spear didn’t disappear she sagged.

_Why?_

_Just why…?_

The spear had punctured right through the metal, (the edges around the spear were melted as though the tip had been red hot when it went through. Some of the little buttons were still blinking. Most of them looked dead. Daphne let out a low whistle.

_Well crap._

 

“Heh. Bingo.”  Daphne waved Chara over. She’d found a small glass booth adjoining the building. There was a little blue  sign taped onto the other side of the glass.

 

 

 “Place is a crap shack.” Daphne grunted ringing the little bell on the counter. “How do they afford a full-time doorman?” Charlotte elbowed her in the ribs.

 

“Shh! be nice. What if somebody hears you?” Charlotte cast a nervous glance at their surroundings.  She was already sweating bullets, the last thing she wanted to do was offend a strange monster by bad-mouthing their home. Daphne raised her hands lethargically.

 

“Just sayin.”She grunted. “So. What do you reckon these are?”

 

“hm?”Charlotte followed to green haired girls gaze. On the booth’s counter sat several…

What were they exactly? Several small metal objects decorated the counter. They looked for all the world like garbage, old aluminum cans, tin foil and scrap metal all twisted up into strange shapes. Gingerly, Charlotte picked on up and turned it over in her hands. It sort of looked like a flower. Yes—she could definitely make out a spindly coat hanger stem and five petals made from what looked like tuna can tabs. Charlotte drew in her chin. Was it supposed to be _art_?

 

“WHAT WHAT WHAT?!” came a suddenly bellow. Charlotte jumped dropping the flower-thing onto the floor as Daphne immediately stepped in front of her.  _Pins and needles._ Charlotte’s hand was in her pocket, gripping the handle of the scissor blade before she could even register the flailing yellow shape that shot at her.

 “DESPICABLE DESPICABLE DESPICABLE HUMAN! YOU WON’T GET AWAY WITH THIS!” Charlotte spun to face her attacker. What looked like a ratty yellow training dummy in pieces floated before them. An old-school red bellhop hat perched upon its head. The dummy vibrated with anger. Charlotte stared. But the pins and needles feeling—the electricity of Red’s touch petered off just as quickly as it came. Charlotte’s hand released the blade. Her body relaxed. Red _groaned._

“um…what?”

“LOITERING! ATTEMPTED THIEVERY! DISTURBING THE PEACE!” The dummy ranted, seeming to pace bobbing in midair before them. It wasn’t attacking them. But it certainly didn’t seem friendly either. Daphne shot Charlotte a questioning glance. Apparently Charlotte’s two hours around a monster seemed to have made her the resident expert on the subject. But Charlotte just shook her head equally stumped. She prodded for Red—hoping she’d be able to explain what was happening but all she got in reply was a distinct wave of irritation. Charlotte bit her lip. Guess she was on her own.

 

“Sorry, we weren’t trying to cause any trouble” Charlotte raised her hands, giving what she hoped was an innocent smile. She decided to redirect the conversation. “Y-you’re the doorman right? It’s nice to meet you—“

The dummy scoffed but raised its head higher at this.

“You are correct foolish trespasser! I am a Doorman that lives inside a DUMMY! I am called the MAD DUMMY! ALL fear and quake in my presence!” Its voice was kind of pitchy. It squeaked often like an old clarinet, and not in a pleasant way. “No mortal soul may enter here without MY PERMISSION! YOU have aroused my anger human! and now you will PAY THE PRICE for your sins!” It let out another earsplittingly ominous laugh as it hung over the two humans.

 

“...His name is _Dummy_?” Daphne grunted. She earned another elbow in the ribs from Charlotte.

 

“W-we’re not trespassing sir. Actually we are here to see a friend. If you could just buzz us into their apartment we’ll get out of your hai—“

 

“ACK! MURDER! MURDER! MURDER!” The dummy squalled, floating around the counter so he could gape at the ground near Charlotte’s feet. Charlotte followed his gaze and winced. The flower thing’s petals had broken fallen off when she dropped it. The dummy’s eyes were bugging out. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY GLORIOUS RECYCLEABLE MASTERPIECE!?”

Oh...

“I am so sooo sorry…” Charlotte stooped down hastily to pick the broken thing up, face burning. “M-maybe I can fix it!” She set it up on the counter like before and tried to piece the petals back on while the dummy hovered around her, fuming in her ear. “T-there! All better!” Charlotte threw on a breathless grin and held up the flower for the dummy to see. The entire bud fell off and smashed against the floor. She let out a gasp.

 

**_You are so weird…_ **

The dummy looked as though it might explode.

 

“PUT. THAT. DOWN.”

 

“Um…Right.” Charlotte set the twisted stem onto the counter and bobbed down to gather up the bits of the bulb. “Do—do you want me to put this up here on the counter or…?”

 

“JUST LEAVE IT!” The dummy shrieked. Suddenly a beefy hand grabbed Charlotte’s wrist. She and Daphne were yanked roughly behind a tall white coated figure. The man’s bulk hiding them from view.

 

“Get away from them.” Dave hissed. He’d dropped his supplies and came running when he caught sight of what was happening. Now he stood erect, eyeing the dummy with an intensity and evenness Charlotte had never seen from him before. Dave wasn’t a young man. His dark hair was already beginning to streak with grey. However he had a wide chest and shoulder and he had an intimidating enough barring to cause the Dummy to pause and look him up and down. Charlotte peeked out from behind the doctor.

 

“A doctor? Doctor…doctor?” The Dummy muttered to itself, ‘teeth’ clicking together thoughtfully.

 

“There is a sick animal in this building.” Dave said slowly clearing his throat. His voice was deeper than normal, like he was trying to sound more intimidating. Apparently Charlotte wasn’t the only one who noticed. Daphne let out a low snort from underneath Dave’s other arm.

 

“Sick?” The dummy blinked. Dave nodded.

 

“A monster named Papyrus called us to come and have a look at it. So if you please—buzz us into their apartment so we can get to work.” Dave intoned.  The Dummy stared. It tilted its head to the left. Then to the right. Then it harrumphed and flung itself violently at the glass window of the booth.

 

Charlotte let out a tiny scream, hands covering her mouth in horror as the dismembered bits of the training dummy scattered lifelessly to the concrete.

 

“Whatever…whatever…” The dummy’s mumbling voice drifted from inside the booth. Charlotte stepped forwards to peer through the glass and caught sight of a  small shape rifling through a filing cabinet.

 

It was kind of…well, _adorable_ actually.  The monster was literally a little yellow bedsheet ghost. It was cartoony with big eyes and a jagged mouth—almost like a little kid’s drawing.

“Flat number 209…” It floated over to his personal callbox and pressed a button. “Papyrus! You have questionable company…” The ghost gruffed testily, speaking into an earpiece. _He doesn’t even have ears. How does he even…?_ Charlotte shook herself. Not important right now.

 

“I’ll send them right up.” The ghost jabbed another button and the double doors of the apartment complex opened.

 

“Heh. Thanks Casper.” Daphne was the first to step through the doors lugging Dave’s bags behind her. Charlotte did a double take. When had Daphne gone back for Dave’s medical bags? Dave put a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder and began to follow the green haired girl inside. Charlotte thought she felt the doctor’s hand tremble. But it could have been her imagination.

As they entered the lobby, the little ghost popped its head out of the side of the wall and followed them with its eyes. It’s face glowed an odd yellow color and it drifting over to them. The ghost paid Charlotte a withering glance before shoving a folded piece of notebook paper into Dave’s hands.

 

“Um… thank you?” Dave raised a brow.

 

“hmph!” the little ghost shot back through the wall and out of sight. They headed upstairs with Daphne taking the lead, lugging two or three heavy bags behind her. Normally Dave would have stopped and made her hand them over by now, but he seemed distracted. He had opened up the note and was staring at it in red-faced consternation.

 

“What did they say?” Charlotte asked leaning up on her tiptoes to see the paper better. Something was scrawled hastily with red ink.

 

 

 

 

> **555-012-2345**
> 
> **Hey doc,**
> 
> **I wish I was your coronary artery, so that I could be wrapped around your heart.**
> 
> **Call me. We can Netflix and chill. ;)**
> 
> **~~-~~ Dummy**
> 
>  

“You guys okay back there?” Daphne grunted from the top of the stairs. Dave flushed deeper. he crumpled the paper hastily and shoved it into his pocket.

 

 “Miss Charlotte, I’ll give you a 50 cent raise if you keep this between us.”

 

Charlotte fought down a laugh, keeping a pinched tight smile on her lips.

 

“Yes sir.”

#############################################################################

 

 

 

Sooo... I didn't plan the phone number bit. Actually came as a complete surprise to me when I was writing it. 

Apparently Madstablook likes Dave's deep, sexy 'I'm-trying-to-sound-scary-even-though-I'm-secretly-pissing-myself' voice.  Haha

 

DaveXMadDummy...

Kawaii as hell.

 

Just ignore me readers.  Its past my bedtime.XD


	11. Chapter 9: Have Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: Well, I promised I’d get it out fast didn’t I? Heres what would have been the other half of the last chapter. Its still to friggin long though…
> 
> Again, let me know about grammar and continuity stuff. 
> 
> @ RubyDracoGirl: that’s really relieving to hear. Thanks!  
> @ Herro: oooh! A newcomer.  I’m glad to hear that you like the concept. I feel like there’s a lot of interesting things to explore and tease out of Undertale. We just don’t see it done that much. Sooo for what its worth, I’m kind of writing the fic I wanted to read.  
> @ Greyscales (sablescales): shhh…princess… Things will get a lot better. (and a hell of a lot nopier) trust me. ;)
> 
> @ wingsofadreamer: welcome! The duel nature thing will make a lot more sense later.Trust me. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.
> 
> @ aahzmatic: Thanks! I like philosophical dilemmas. (Even questioning morality and losing faith in people thing is kind of a precursor into Chara’s brainwashing….) C:
> 
>  
> 
> TUMBLR for FIC: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/

Chapter 9: Have Mercy

 

 

Charlotte rapped on the door, putting on a confident grin. Sure, Dave and Daphne’s first encounter with a monster had been a little rocky. But now that they had arrived at Papyrus’ flat, she was certain that the awkwardness was behind them.  Then the door opened and her heart sank.

“Oh…hi Sans...”

 Sans looked over the group of humans, grinning unreadably. He was easily a head taller than Dave, and more than three times as broad. He seemed to take up the entire doorway with his bulk. She felt Dave stiffen next to her. _Why couldn’t papyrus have answered the door?_

“Sup.” Sans rumbled.

 

“We’re here to check up on Doggie.” Charlotte motioned to the other two humans. “This is my coworker Daphne, and my boss Dave.”

 

“Y’don’t say?” Sans barely paid Daphne a second glance, focusing in on Dave like a laser beam. Sans grinned. It wasn’t a _nice grin_.  He stepped up to man, extending a hand. Dave accepted it, his own hand all but disappearing in the skeleton’s massive grip.

 

“Pleasure.” Dave intoned, his smile tight. They locked eyes.

_Oh bollocks…_

“Dave is our resident Veterinarian, Sans,” Charlotte said. She tried edging closer to step between them, but Daphne’s fingernails dug into her arm, keeping her in place. She cast Charlotte a warning glance.

 

“Animal doctor huh?” Sans rumbled squinting down at the man. “Maybe you can clear somethin’ up for me then…”  He began picking his teeth lazily with his pinky finger. Dave leaned back slightly.

 

“I’ll…do my best…”

 

 _Oh Bollocks he’s_ _terrified._ Charlotte realized. She could feel the fear rolling off of Dave, even though he tried not to show it. She felt a genuine stab of annoyance towards the pun-loving monster.

  _Why_? Why was Sans _doing_ this? Did he just make a point to intimidate _every_ person he meets? Dave was already so uncomfortable. It was a miracle she’d even convinced him to drive down there at all. And here came Sans, shattering all her hard work in one fell swoop. Why did he have to make everything so hard?

 

The monster leaned lazily against the door pane, causally looming over the man. Dave swallowed, sticking his hands into the pockets of his coat. But the doctor held Sans’ gaze and stood his ground. He raised a questioning brow to the monster as if to say ‘well, what is it?’ Charlotte couldn’t help but feel a little impressed with his nerve. She never thought the kindly doctor could be so...

 **Brave**.

 

 “Bout how much does a wooly mammoth weigh?” Sans rumbled.

**.**

“I don’t know.” Dave intoned.

 

The little white lights in San’s eye sockets burned a little brighter, his grinned widened.

 

“Enough to _break the ice_.”

 

beat.

Sans let out a booming laugh, slapping Dave on the back.

 

“I’m just messin with ya Doc, come on in!” Sans voice was suddenly warm and jovial. He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye socket before turning back into the flat, waving for them to follow.

 

“Hey Bro! Humans are here!” Sans called into the house. Said humans, exchanged glances. Charlotte forced a confident (though slightly apologetic) grin and strode inside. After a moment her co-workers followed.

 

Papyrus had dragged the examination table into the living room. Papyrus stood there cradling Doggie in his arms like she was a newborn baby. She was all wrapped up in a blanket with multicolored fluffy bunnies printed on it. Though it was still clearly weak, the dog looked much better than the last time Charlotte had seen it. Its eyes were brighter, and it waggled its tail when the humans entered the room. Charlotte smiled.

 

_Four hours of love from Papyrus and its already like looking at a different dog._

 

Papyrus lowered the dog and laid her gently on the examination table. He tucked in her blanket around her. Then he stooped down and plant a kiss between her eyes.

_Oh._

_Oh bollocks._

_That did it…_

_Right in the heart..._

 

It was all Charlotte could do to keep from squealing and grabbing the big doofus into a hug right then and there. How was this cinnamon bun even related to a guy like Sans? _So sweet…_

 

When papyrus straightened, his eyes fell on the three new humans standing in his living room. His jaw dropped. Joy. Overwhelming wonderful joy and energy—the kind a six year old might feel when they meet santa claus for the first time, emanated from the skeleton. So intense that Charlotte’s grin faltered.

_Wait…_

Without warning Papyrus shot at them, a whirlwind of excitement. Charlotte felt Dave and Daphne turn to stone beside her. Papyrus literally leaping _over_ the examination table with his extra-long legs and charged towards the newcomers. He crossed the room so fast that Charlotte half wondered if he’d be able to stop in time before plowing them all into the ground. In an instant, Papyrus had Dave’s hand pinned between two of his own and was shaking the man’s entire arm with gusto.

 

“I AM SO HAPPY YOU ARE HERE TINY-DOG-FIXING-HUMAN!”  He cheered, so loud that it almost hurt their ears. “I KNEW YOU WOULD COME! OH DOGGIE WILL BE SO HAPPY!” He gushed.

 

“Uh, papyrus…” Charlotte put a hand on the skeleton’s wrist, trying to reign him back. No dice. Papyrus actually lifted Dave off the floor and crushed him to his chest.

 

“SANS SAID YOU PROBABLY WOULDN’T COME! BUT I KNEW BETTER!” He spun around happily then held the human out at arm’s length, beaming at him. Dave’s tight smile was still there. Still frozen in place like it had been carved into solid stone. Charlotte grimaced. One look at the man’s ashen face was enough to tell that Sans had been officially dethroned from his current position as _the scariest fucking thing Dave had ever seen_. Daphne had backed up a few feet, eyeing the skeleton dubiously.  Papyrus set the shakey man back down on his feet. “I KNEW YOU WOULD COME.. I-I NEVER GAVE UP HOPE!”  The skeleton sniffled. _He actually sniffled._ Charlotte turned to mush when she noticed them. Fat orange tears were forming in the corners of the monster’s eyes.

 

_Oh have mercy…_

 

Charlotte let out a coo and threw herself at the monster, hugging him tight.

_So cute! So cute so cute so cute so cute so cutesocute so-_

 

**_Shut up Greenie!_ **

 

Charlotte couldn’t help it. His happiness was so contagious. So overwhelming. She couldn’t help but share in it. Papyrus scooped her up and started dancing her around the room, nyeh heh hehing. Red seemed to grow more irritated at being ignored.

 

**_You’re making a scene. Stop._ **

No response.

**_Stop dancing._ **

Nothing. It took a moment for Red to realize. _Charlotte couldn’t hear her right now_. Red groaned.

**_Why are you so weird?_ **

But she knew very well **why**. That’s what made it all the more irritating.

 

 **This** was why Charlotte hated crowds. Why she avoided the subway, and hated confrontation. Why she always cried during sad movies—no matter how cheesy. Why she was so good at reading emotions. Why she trusted so easily, and felt everything so intensely.

The green magic leaking from Charlotte’s soul surrounded Red, shining so bright and loud that she gave up and slumped down to wait it out. 

 _Green soul._ Weak _soul._  

 _Green magic. Useless_ magic. It would only make her suffer more in the end. Only make her miserable.

**_It had to go._ **

_The power to feel the emotions of others. The power of **empathy.**_

_That had to be the first thing to go._

_#######################_

The mini celebration lasted for only a few seconds, but it felt much longer. When Charlotte finally got back on her own feet she noticed. Daphne was almost smiling. Dave wore a frazzled smile, watching them. Confused. Still rattled. But his eyes shone with laughter.  Apparently Papyrus’ exuberance was much more endearing when it was directed at someone other than _him._  Sans—it seemed—had left the room.

Coming slowly down off her high, Charlotte began introducing her co-workers once again. Take-two went a hell of a lot better. The exchange was polite. And Dave seemed much more relaxed when he approached the table where Doggie slept.

Then came testing. Dave seemed to zone out once he started working, checking different parts of the sores, taking temperatures. Except for the occasional ‘hmm’ he was silent. Sans sauntered back into the room a little while later, silently observing the doctor work. After a few minutes the man sighed and got to his feet.

 

“She’ll need stitches for the sores. I can clean them out and get them set up no problem but they’re definitely infected. She’ll need to be on antibiotics for a few weeks.” Dave listed off. Papyrus nodded furiously, scribbling this all down, though he didn’t understand anything about ‘infections’ or antibiotics in the least. “Then there’s the mange. She’ll need medicated baths for a while. Lots of rest. I’ll be able to know more after I shave her.”

 

Papyrus was giddy. “DID YOU HEAR THAT DOGGIE? THE DOGGIE-FIXING-HUMAN IS GOING TO TAKE GOOD CARE OF YOU!”

 

“This might take a little while if you’re wanting me to do it here.” Dave said, getting out the needed tools. “Could be a few hours. Is that alright?”

 

“OF COURSE! YOU ARE WELCOME TO STAY AS LONG AS YOU NEED TO!”

 

Dave’ hmmed’ and went to work. Everyone else hovered around watching him, offering help when they could. There wasn’t much for anyone else to do though and an uncomfortable silence began to fall over the scene. Charlotte began to regret having so many people come. No one really talked to each other. No one really KNEW each other except for Charlotte and Papyrus. And papyrus was too busy holding Doggie’s paw and muttering assurances to really break up the awkward silence.

 

So it came as a shock to Charlotte when fifteen minutes into the operation, Daphne sauntered over to Sans.

 

“Hey. Big guy.” She tugged on the hem of his sleeve to get his attention. The monster paused before glancing down at the human. “Wanna do me a huge favor?”

 

Charlotte pinched her eyes shut. It was all she could do to keep from ripping her own hair out. Things had _just_ calmed down. Sans’ brow bone raised.

 

“What kind of favor?” the monster rumbled.

 

In response Daphne dug into her backpack and pulled out a well-loved sketchbook. She flipped it open to some figure drawings and held it up for Sans to see.

“So I’m a Graphic Design major, yeah? I’m supposed to have five more sketches done for class tomorrow morning.” Daphne squinted up at Sans, closing one eye. “Would ya be pissed and go all ‘ _fee fi foe fum’_ on us again if I _draw you_?”

 

Charlotte froze. She couldn’t tell if Sans got the reference or not but judging by the dumbfounded look on his face the meaning definitely hit home. Somewhere in her chest Charlotte felt Red resurface. She snickered faintly.

**_Oooh…Ballsey…_ **

 

For some reason, Sans’ eyes flickered to the doctor. The two shared a look that Charlotte couldn’t put a name to. Then Dave turned his attention back to the dog. Sans immediately stooping slightly to grin at the green haired girl.

 

 “hmm… That all depends pipsqueak, you gonna paint me like one of your French skeletons?”

 

“Naw.” Daphne shrugged turning to a clean page. “It’s whatever. You can just sit on the couch and do nothing if ya want.”

 

“You’re in luck then” Sans chuckled, and Charlotte thought she saw genuine amusement in his eyes as he flopped down on the sofa. “I’m a pro at sittin around doin’ nothing.”

Daphne settled down on the floor cross legged setting up her supplies as Sans lazily stripped off his hoodie and undershirt before laying back onto the sofa. Charlotte stared. He really was all bones underneath all those layers. While the basic structure was pretty much the same, Sans didn’t really look much like a human skeleton. His bones were big and thick, and seemed much sturdier than normal. His build wasn’t right for a human either. Charlotte wasn’t an artist, but even she could tell that his anatomy greatly skewed. In the center of his chest, partially obscured by his ribs— floated a little white inverted heart.

Daphne paused, squinting hard at the heart. She nibbled the end of her eraser thoughtfully.

Sans winked—one eyesocket closing impossibly as he grinned down at the artist.

 

“Like what ya see pipsqueak?” he snorted. Dave’s head came up at that remark, but seemed to let it pass.  Daphne blinked slowly pressing a white chalk pencil to black paper. She shrugged.

 

“You got some weird-ass eyes.” She grunted.

 

 _Seriously, was she trying to get a rise out of him?_ Charlotte’s brow knit up. _Maybe she actually was._

But the skeleton was far from offended. He let out another rumbling laugh, his ribs and shoulders shaking to illustrate it.

 

“Well you got some weird-ass hair kiddo”

Daphne smiled at this. A tiny, almost imperceptible daphne-sized smile.

 

“Thanks. I try.”

 

And that was it. Sans lounged there idly. Daphne went to drawing. Dave turned back to work on the dog.

Papyrus took Charlotte’s hand. “COME TINY HUMAN! LETS MAKE DINNER! I WILL TEACH YOU THE DELICATE ART OF CREATING FRIENDSHIP SPAGHETTI!” Charlotte nodded slowly and allowed herself to be steered off towards the kitchen.

Charlotte kept an ear out, trying to listen to what was happening in the living room, but the door muffled the sound too much for her to understand what anyone was saying.  A few times, Sans’ booming chuckle reached the kitchen. Once Charlotte thought she even heard Dave’s laugh mixed in there. Was everyone really just…getting along? Just like that? She shook her head slowly.

 _How’d that happen?_  

 Red groaned weakly somewhere inside of Charlotte’s chest.

**_You really_ are _an idiot…_**

 

#############################################################################33

 

TL;DR

 

Charlotte and papyrus be like:

 

Charlotte:

Papyrus:

At first, Chara be like:

But then...

They were still:

And 

and:

.................

.......................

So then Chara be like:

  _ **D E S T R O Y   A L L    F E E L S S S S S S....**_

 

 


	12. Let the Horror in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> Thanks for the feedback guys. Just a warning though. This chapter contains FEELS.
> 
>  
> 
> You’ve been warned.
> 
>  
> 
> @ LegSoHotYouFryAnEgg: That’s so sweet…
> 
> ………….
> 
> ( ๑ ╹◡╹ ๑ ) 
> 
> I guess we’ll see what happens.
> 
> TUMBLR for FIC: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/

 

 

 

 Chapter 10: Let The Horror In

 

 

 

 

 

“Smells good Pap” Sans rumbled as he walked into the kitchen. “Just came in to say that the humans are leaving.”

 

“WHAT?” papyrus looked up from the stove—stricken. “WHAT ABOUT DINNER?!”

 

“Doc finished up on th’ pooch. He left some pills, fancy shampoo and instructions on how ta take care of her.” Sans shrugged “ ‘parrently he’s gotta drop th’ pipsqueak off at class ‘n to get back to work.” Sans threw a glance in Charlotte’s direction. She winced. _That’s your cue to leave._

“Tell them I’ll be right out.” Charlotte said. She patted her apron to get the leftover flour off of her hands. Sans’ eye lights flickered and he stiffened, turning to stone. _Hate._ It hit like a bolt of lightning. Charlotte threw the skeleton a nervous glance, but he was focused in completely on the white powder on Charlotte’s hands. A chill ran down Charlotte’s spine. The lights left his eyes.

 

“Miss Charlotte?” Dave poked his head into the kitchen. Sans blinked, and the moment was over. She let out a breath.

 

“Sorry Dave, just getting cleaned up, I’m coming.” She waved to the man.

“EH, DOGGIE-FIXER- HUMAN?” Papyrus edged towards Dave, fingertips clinking nervously together. “DOES THE TINY HUMAN _REALLY_ HAVE TO LEAVE?” He asked nervously.  that innocence. it was like…like a child who found brought home a stray cat. The ‘can we keep her…please..?’ feel to it made Charlotte smile. Dave regarded the monster for a long moment. Then he smiled weakly.

“Her shift is over. As of twenty minutes ago, Miss Charlotte is a free bird.” He shrugged. Charlotte’s head shot up, eyes darting to Dave. _What_?! “She’s a grown woman, you’ll have to ask her if it’s what she wants.” Charlotte gaped. Dave gave her a rueful smile, hands going into his pockets. Was he really just…?

**_I’ll be damned. He actually trusts us Greenie._ **

Red sounded almost smug. Charlotte shook off her surprise and felt her face fall into a grin.

“Well, if you don’t need my help at work, then sure. I’d love to stay for dinner Papyrus”

The tall skeleton let out a squeal of joy and suddenly Charlotte was eight feet off the ground in a back-breaking hug. Her cheek pressed into the skeleton’s thin bony one.

 

“THIS IS WONDERFUL! WE CAN EAT FRIENDSHIP SPAGHETTI, AND WATCH METTATON TOGETHER, AND—“

Charlotte noticed Dave standing close to Sans. They appeared to be talking quietly about something, but Papyrus’ booming voice in her ear made it impossible to tell what about. Some kind of understanding had formed between the two. Both were nodding. Sans’ eye lights had dimmed.  

“what…what did he say to you?” Charlotte asked after Dave had gone. she tried to sound casual, but her nervousness came through nonetheless. Sans regarded her.

“Nothin much. Just asked me to make sure you get home okay tonight.”

Charlotte smiled, shoulders relaxing. Sans grunted.

“Whats that look for?” he slipped past her into the living room. “Never said I agreed to it.”

 

###########################################################################3

Making spaghetti sauce with Papyrus was a lot messier than Charlotte had expected it to be. Apparently, the secret to expertly cooked spaghetti sauce was to punch the raw vegetables until they bent to your will and transformed into sauce. And the harder you punched, the more delicious the sauce would become. The two of them stood at the counter pounding tomatoes into pulp. Charlotte had to admit, it was kinda fun—stress relieving almost. For whatever reason, Sans  kept coming in and out periodically to ‘help’ with dinner. Charlotte used the word help lightly since Sans really didn’t do anything but mill around the kitchen, and make the occasional vegetable-related pun. To be honest it was a little nerve racking. No matter which was she turned she could still feel the skeleton’s eyes on her. She tried to ignore it. At some point Papyrus bounded off to get some clean ovenmits.

 

“Hey kiddo” the baritone voice rumbled charlotte making her jump. _When had he come up next to her?_  She glanced up to find Sans grinning face above her. “What do humans and spaghetti noodles have in common?” _Another pasta joke._  Did he _ever_ run out? Charlotte forced a smile and shook her head.

 

“I dunno. What do humans and spaghetti noodles have in common?” she said, humoring him. Sans leaned down, brushing a lock of hair back so he could whisper in her ear.

 

**“They both wriggle when you eat them.”**

Charlotte’s heart turned to ice. The memory of Sans’ hands inches from her soul, close enough to grab it—came unbidden into her mind. Her eyes darted up to his.  The skeleton took one look at her expression, before he burst out laughing.

 

“You really are an innocent little girl, aren’t you?” Sans leaned down and ruffled her hair rather hard. Charlotte paused, eyeing him confusedly. He winked. “lighten up bucko, I’m just messin with ya.”

 

“SAAAAANS!” Papyrus groaned as he stepped back into the room. “ARE YOU BOTHERING THE HUMAN WITH YOUR TERRIBLE JOKES? IF YOU’RE GOING TO BE IN HERE YOU MAY AS WELL PUT ON AN APRON AND HELP!” This only seemed to feed Sans’ amusement.

 

“Sorry bro, just came over to bug the human.” Sans shrugged, as if this made things all better. He turned back to Charlotte. “Anyways, kid, I just came in here to warn ya.  ya might wanna clean your hands quick before those juices set in too much.”

“Um…Why?”

 

“Didja never notice that when ya make spaghetti sauce yourself, your hands smell like garlic for weeks?”

 

Charlotte glanced at her sauce covered hands. Curiously she brought a hand up closer to her nose to give it a sniff.

**_Greenie wait—_ **

SPLAT!

The moment her hands neared her face, Sans bumped her elbow, causing her to slap Sauce all over her face. The apartment shook with San’s booming laughter and Papyrus’ incredulous shouts about his immaturity. Charlotte drew her hands away from her face and blinked. Everything was red…

**_How are you this gullible?_ **

It took awhile for Papyrus to finally calm down and for Sans to stop laughing. But when they did Papyrus slumped over to her, looking sheepish.

“I APOLIGIZE FOR MY BROTHERS CHILDISH PRANKS. LETS GET YOU CLEANED UP...” Papyrus sighed, he put a hand on Charlotte’s shoulders and led her to the bathroom. The skeleton’s bathroom was small, with a cheap looking tub-shower. Charlotte winced at the sight of it, imagining someone as tall as papyrus trying to cram themselves down into a tub that size. Charlotte looked at herself in the mirror and winced. It had gotten everywhere, even in her hair.

 

“HUMAN! YOU MAY USE OUR SHOWER TO WASH YOUR HAIR IF YOU WOULD LIKE!” He began digging into a hall closet pulling out items. When he turned back to her he had his arms full of toiletries. There was a fluffy pink towel, two bottles of shampoo and conditioner, a hairbrush, and a clean washcloth. The skeleton beamed and held out the items proudly.

Charlotte stared. _The first aid kit, the oven mitts, and now a bunch of hair products?_ Skeletons didn’t have hair or skin. She shook her head slowly reaching out to take them.

 

“Papyrus…? Not to be rude or anything, but… _why_ do you _have_ all of this?”         

 

The Skeleton’s smile fell, and he glanced away awkwardly.

 

“Oh… heh” he muttered, voice going surprisingly soft. “We bought those a while ago for when Frisk came to visit.”

 

Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat.   _Anger. Fear, disbelief, outrage, horror, scandal, rage-_  Easy…

She had to take several deep breaths to keep herself from flying into a panic. _Frisk._

Frisk had been the little kid who opened the barrier freeing all of the monsters. The one who had acted as their ambassador. Of course Charlotte had heard of Frisk. Everyone had heard about her. And about what  had happened to her.

Frisk had been the monsters sole benefactor from the beginning, urging public officials to trust them, rallying support for the monster’s full integration into society. Giving such sweet, heartfelt speeches about how if everyone just came together, we could all live in harmony.   _The poor kid. She lasted less than two months._

Charlotte wasn’t sure exactly how it happened. But apparently there had been an incident at one of their peace rallies. It hadn’t been a public event really. Mostly just the kid giving a speech to the bulk of the monster population here in the city. It happened so fast, catching everyone off guard.

 Some claimed that Frisk was shot while she was onstage giving her address. Others insisted she was smothered to death by the crowd of monsters when came down after the address. Some _swore_ they saw a bright blue flash in her chest just before she fell.

There hadn’t been many humans in the crowd that day. but it seemed like everybody knew _somebody_ who _swore_ they saw what really went down.  The media kept surprisingly close mouthed about the whole ordeal. Most figured that the government had paid to keep everything quiet. The ‘official’ story claimed it was an accident. Nobody really believed that.  Some even  believed  that it have been one of the monsters that killed her. Why else would the government work so hard to keep a lid on it?

That little girl had practically been the patron saint of the monster’s cause. If she’d been slaughtered by one of them… Well that certainly didn’t bode well for the monsters did it? The murkiness surrounding Frisk’s death opened the flood gates for anti- monster sentiment.

Less than a week later another story surfaced, claiming that the Monsters had killed _six_ other children, stealing their souls for some kind of ritual. Since it apparently happened underground, nobody had any proof of this aside from hearsay and speculation. But the one point that each version of the story agreed on was that the ritual required _seven_ , human souls.

After that, there were practically no human representatives for the Monsters. The media clamored for answers, assailing the king and queen to confirm or deny the claims made against them. But they elected not to answer. The king grew distant after that day, rarely seen in the public eye anymore. He seemed colder. Less accommodating to the humans demands.  For most, his silence was all the proof they needed. The world breathed out—losing whatever optimism they might have felt towards these strangers. Then they inhaled, all together and let the _horror_ in.

Charlotte remembered when she’d heard about it. She’d been at the café getting lunch when a young guy rushed in through the front and yelled for the old lady to turn on the TV to the news report. The café soon erupted in conversation. In angry, horrified voices.

Those horrible creatures from mount Ebbot. They’d murdered a little girl. The only person who stuck up for them. The only one who seemed convinced they were good. They’d _killed_ her. They gobbled up her soul, sacrificed her for some kind of evil ritual. That’s what everyone said. Everyone was shouting and talking at once, not even seeming to hear each other.

Charlotte had knocked over her coffee mug, hands rising up to clamp over her ears. _Anger, anger anger. Fear, disbelief, outrage, horror, scandal, rage,anger anger anger anger…  It was everywhere. It was smothering her. She couldn’t breathe.  Horror. Rage._

Revenge _._

_Papyrus… he’d  known Frisk. He’d been one of Frisk’s friends._

“Oh…” was all Charlotte could say. Papyrus shifted the pile of toiletries into her arms.

 

 “Yes… well, M-might as well not let them go to waste. Hm?”

 

 _They’d been angry, afraid, horrified by what had happened. About what those beings were capable of._ The overwhelming fear…

 

Suddenly Charlotte felt a gentle hand graze her cheek. She sniffled and lifted her eyes. Papyrus smiled down at her. _Sorrow._ It fell from him like rain on her face. He was in pain too, wasn’t he? She could feel the ache behind his mask of innocence. The empty ache of loss. Of regret. _Papyrus had been their friend._ _Their friend_. The skeleton’s hand lingered on her face, he began softly rubbing her cheek with his thumb. Wiping away the sauce. And the _tears_.

“Papyrus” Charlotte quavered guilt creeping into her. “What are you doing comforting m-me for?” she sniffled, patting his hand. She was being stupid. Selfish. He was the one who had lost someone important to him. He was the one chance for a peaceful life had been shattered. She had no right.

  “I’m sorry pap. I’m just a mess. I’m the one who should be—be comforting you. I-I should be the one trying to  make _you_ feel better.”  The skeleton nyeh heh heh’ed softly.

 

“ _Silly_ human. You already do.”  

 

 

 

#####################################################################################

**FEEEEEEEEEELS!**

 

 

 

**Must. counteract. With. Huuuuuumor….**

-...................................................

Okay. 

 

 

So I imagine that later on Charlotte wakes up in the middle of the night and is like.

“wait a minute… ‘wriggle when you eat them’…..?”

……….

.................................

....................................................

_Red was that a SEX JOKE?!_

 

 

_I am so sorry readers..._


	13. Chapter 11: Where you stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TUMBLR for FIC: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/

 

 

 

 

AN:

Thanks for being patient. Sorry if the last one was slow moving, or confusing. I know I dropped a pretty big bomb. But it will all make sense soon. I promise.

Thanks for sticking with this. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

 

 

Chapter 11: Where you stand

 

It was a fun night. Charlotte talked and laughed and ate until she felt both wonderful and awful at the same time. She giggled at each and every one of Sans’ terrible jokes. Ignoring his measuring eyes, and leery grins. Charlotte laughed and listened as papyrus rattled on about the newest metta-something movie or his latest culinary epiphany regarding magically-infused linguine.  She talked about her job working with animals, her fat grey tabby cat, who once ate an entire ball of yellow yarn after she accidentally left it out. She told them about her classes at the university, and her aspirations to become a veterinarian like Dave.

Charlotte talked and laughed and listened—

_But thought of nothing._

The human smiled, ignoring the cold cancerous blade in her pocket. She laughed and prattled—drowning out the logical voice in her chest, and the growing suspicion that had taken root in her heart. She did what she did best. She ignored it. She suppressed it, pushing it down and hiding it behind an easy smile and a pair of dark-lashed eyes. The emotional equivalent of sticking her fingers in her ears and humming loudly. After 19 years of sharpening this skill—the human was a pro.

She kept a lid on it. Until the sun had all but fallen from the sky, and dusk began crawling out the claim the world. Until Papyrus gave her one last warm, enveloping cuddle and wished her a safe night. Until she left those safe guileless arms and stepped out into the twilight air—with a sneering bona fide, _monstrosity_ at her side. 

“Gettin’ dark. Lemmie walk ya part of th’ ways home.” Sans rumbled.

 “You really, don’t have to do that…” Charlotte pulled her hood up, keeping the brim down as far over her face as it would go. The skeleton put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

“ _Doctors_ orders. _Tibia_ honest I don’t think I have th’ _guts_ to _cross_ him.”

Charlotte ducked her head, obscuring her face further. She could feel San’s eyes roving over her. Judging her.

“Heh, that’s your cue to laugh kid. Or y’know…to emote at all.”

When Charlotte said nothing, the skeleton let out a low sigh, and began leading her off into the night.

 

 

**_He knew Frisk._ **

_I know…_

**_You just gonna stick your head in the sand and pretend nothing’s different?_ **

_I’m…I just…_

 

It was one thing to hear a rumor of foul play. To see a news report of something terrible happening—to sit on the sidelines and watch as everyone scrambled to pick a side. It was one thing if the scandal was far away from her own life— something beyond her reach of influence. Something alien, all wrapped up in politics and hearsay. It was quite another to suddenly be so close to the problem. To know the players long after learning the score.

It was scary.

**_Well Greenie?_ **

_I don’t know…_

**_What’s that supposed to mean?_ **

_Means I don’t know…_

 

**_Well you’d better make up your mind soon. This is your chance._ **

_My chance?_

****

**_Don’t you get it? If Sans knew Frisk then maybe He’ll have known what really happened._**  Charlotte raised her eyes slightly, so she could peek up at the monster walking beside her. He had his eyes trained forwards, wearing a frozen grin as always. Charlotte closed her eyes.

 

_I know that._

Red was quiet for a moment. Before she let out a cold humorless laugh.

**_You knew what they were when all this started. When you decided to waltz into their lives. You knew what people said. Can’t tell me you forgot._ **

_I didn’t! I mean…it’s just…This...this might change everything. Papyrus and Sans aren’t just a couple of monsters off the street anymore. They’re not just… random citizens who were uninvolved with the whole scandal._

**_So. If the rumors about what the monsters did to Frisk were true, it wouldn’t have affected your view of Papyrus?_** Another cold laugh. ** _You love them in spite of them?_** A scoff. **_How very_ noble _of you._**

_T-that’s not what I meant! I mean…I’ve watched the news. Our government does fishy stuff all the time don’t they? But those people—they don’t represent how everybody feels— do they? And…and you can’t really blame an entire species on the actions of just a few…right?_

**_So even if King Asgore_ did _murder a bunch of children, that doesn’t necessarily mean that all monsters are murders—is that what you’re saying?_**

Well…yeah, I-I mean I guess…

**_And your big grinning friend could still be innocent, couldn’t he? Still be worthy of defending?_ **

_W-well…_

**_And the two of you can  just laugh and skip off into the sunset,  innocent unaffected  by the political bullshit that just hit the proverbial fan?_ **

_Why do you have to be so mean to me?_

**_Because someone has to keep you safe Greenie. You’ve already proven that you aren’t good with making decisions by yourself._ **

****

**_You wanted to believe that Papyrus was just a neutral party in all this. That he was uninvolved with what may have happened. But now you know better. He knew Frisk. Apparently very well too._ **

_So now… what happened that night when Frisk died. It makes all the difference, doesn’t it?_

**_You wanna know where to stand? You’d sure as hell better get your facts straight greenie. All I’m saying._** Charlotte closed her eyes, feeling crushed under her own uncertainty.

_So… what do I do?_

**_Start digging Greenie. Only way you’re going to learn the truth._ **

_Okay…_

 

“Sorry…” Charlotte mumbled aloud. Sans paused slightly, glancing down at the human.

“hm?”

 

“I don’t…know what to say to you.” She mumbled rubbing her arm with a free hand. “I just I don’t know what I said or did to make you hate me so much…”

That caused the monster to stiffen. He stopped walking altogether, paused beneath a streetlamp. The cold light casting shadows down his skull.

“Heh… What makes you think that I hate you?”

 

“I’m not stupid...”

That opened the flood gates. _Stupid_ , frustrated feelings began pouring from the girl’s mouth before reason could stem the flow. “You can’t stand being around me. You’re always watching everything I do, like you’re expecting me to—I don’t know what… You keep—keep glaring at me like I’m some kind of…of…” Bollocks. Here come the tears… Red groaned, growing cold in her chest.

 

**_Why do you always_ always _have to cry?_**

Charlotte didn’t reply, trying to force down the tears before she tried to speak again.  Sans’ hard expression softened almost imperceptibly around his eyes. But his teeth remained clenched, his grin growing pained. A large hand reached for her face, then paused in the air—conflicted, before slowly lowering back to his side. A soft growl-like sound rumbled in the monster’s chest. It wasn’t aggressive per se, but Charlotte still couldn’t place the reason for it. She wiped her face and dropped her eyes once more to the pavement.

 

“Is it…is it just because I’m human?”  Charlotte muttered, not daring to look at his face. “I-I…whatever I did to you Sans’ I’m _S-sorry_ …”

 

“ **Oh dear. Is everything alright?”** A deep sonorous voice filled the air, so large that Charlotte could feel it reverberate through her very bones. She ducked her head—automatically, embarrassedly trying to hide the tears on her face.  All at once the dim light above them was gone, and Charlotte found herself swallowed up in the shadow of someone big. Someone _very_ very big. Charlotte’s eyes slid to the skeleton at her side. He too was completely dwarfed by the presence, towering over them.

Then the skeleton chuckled softly, and spoke, his words lighting a fire of trepidation and wonder inside of the human’s soul.

“Heh. Heya Asgore.”

Charlotte began to shake, head ducking lower, doing all she could to keep her terror from bubbling to the surface. All the videos, news reports, pictures and descriptions clawed their way up into the forefront of Charlotte’s mind.

She didn’t need to look up to know it was him.  She’d seen him so many times before, staring up at her from the pages of magazines. He was a _giant_. A horned, heavily armored, golden-haired _giant_. He towered over reporters. Over _other_ monsters.  This was _him_. The monster everyone was afraid of. The one they said killed all of those children. Murdered them. Taken their souls. One reporter had described him as ‘looking up at some pagan incarnation of Satan himself. _Baphomet_ —given flesh.’  This was him. Asgore Dreemurr—the monster king.

A fuzzy paw— big as a hubcap— rested a top Charlotte’s hood covered head. The air caught in her throat.

“Small one, are you feeling alright? You are shaking.”

 

_Help me…_

But Red had gone quiet, stepping into the other room when she heard Asgore’s voice. Charlotte called out to her, desperate for help.

But no one came.

“Small one…?” A small tug of paternal concern. Charlotte took in a shuddering breath.

_Okay…okay…Breathe…don’t panic. You’re fine. He’s fine. He hasn’t seen your face. He doesn’t know you’re human. Breathe…_

Charlotte shook her head quickly letting the heavy paw slide off of her. She instantly cringed closer to Sans’ chest, trying to hide in his shadow.

The paw lowered. Heartache. Disappointment. Bitterness laced with remorse. _But no anger._

“Don’t take it too personal boss,” Sans’ warm chuckle cutting through the tension. “S’my fault really. Kiddo’s new around here. ‘Fraid she hasn’t had a very… _good_ time…”

The monster king was silent for a moment. Charlotte could feel his eyes on her. Then she felt and heard the monster lowering himself down. He was close now, she could feel it. She pressed her face into Sans’ chest. _Too close._ _Bollocks_ _He was way too close…_

“I apologize, and I hope that you will feel more welcome in the future little one.” The paw returned patting gingerly over her head, she pinched her eyes shut, unable to keep herself from imagining those powerful hands crushing her head like a grape. The monster seemed to sense her trepidation because he sighed deeply.

“T-thank you... Y-your majesty” she peeped, voice slightly muffled by Sans’ hoodie. The king paused and the paternal feeling intensified. He let out a chuckle like distant thunder and lifted his hand away, rising to his feet. Charlotte’s head felt strangely cold without it’s weight. Charlotte felt the king’s attention turn from her to the skeleton, and she released the breath of air she’d held in.

 

“I am glad I ran into you Dr. Sans. I know that it is your day off tomorrow, but a group of humans from the bureau are stopping by the embassy tomorrow morning, and I think we would all  feel more... comfortable if…well…”

Charlotte felt the skeleton’s belly shake from laughter beneath her cheek. If she hadn’t been so utterly terrified, Charlotte knew she would have been embarrassed about how she clung so close to him. She barely knew Sans and he was far from a friend. But to his credit, he didn’t pull away from her grip. Something she was eternally grateful for.

 

“No problemo boss. I’ll make sure to stop by after my shift at the hotdog stand.”

 

“Good man. I will see you tomorrow at noon then.” The monster king moved away, and Charlotte once again felt the cold yellow light of the street lamp on her again. She peeked out an eye to see that the monster king had his back to them and was striding off down the dark road from whence he came. She watched his retreating back, the tension in her chest began to recede. Her frantic breathing beginning to slow.  The monster king paused a few yards off, but didn’t turn around to look at them. His voice came out soft, sympathetic and low.

“Human… It was nice to meet you.”

Then he was gone. Charlotte stared after him, torn between terror and wonder. He’d never seen her face. How...how long had he known?

 

Sans seemed to stiffen around her and Charlotte winced raising her head sheepishly. He was frowning. But he hadn’t pulled away. Hadn’t thrown her under the bus or forced her to do anything she’d been uncomfortable with. That—she supposed—was a mercy unto itself.

 Now the skeleton just frowned down at her face. Searching. Whatever he sought he must not have found because his frown deepened.

Charlotte released him with a sniffle, shying away. She was too relieved, to confused and overwhelmed to truly feel embarrassed.  

 

“You wouldn’t let him see your face.” Sans rumbled. “Why?”  The demand wasn’t as cold as it could have been. But there was an edge in it that caused the human to look away in shame. She shrugged lamely. The skeleton hummed.

 

“Were you _really_ scared? Or were you just too _ashamed_ to show your face? To scared to have him recognize you?”

 

“Recognize me…?” It was Charlotte’s turn to frown. “S-sans…I’ve never met the monster king before…?”  Sans advanced grabbing her chin and raising her face so that she was forced to look at him. It wasn’t a rough gesture, but Charlotte winced all the same.

 

“Really?” he pressed. “Not _ever_?”  Her brow furrowed, head shaking slowly.

 

“I was… I just heard a lot of stories about him… I wasn’t expecting to meet him...I-I was scared sans…” shining pearls began welling up in the corners of her eyes again. She blinked them away, but they clung still to her lashes. San’s brow lined with thought. Then he released her face and turned away.

 

“Shouldn’t be scared of th’ king kiddo.” Sans sighed, running a skeletal hand over his tired skull. “ _He don’t like it._ ”

 

Charlotte should have asked him right then and there. Should have demanded answers for the skeleton’s bi-polar moods swings. For his suspicion and nonsensical questions. Answers for what really happened to the six human souls, for what happened to frisk. For everything. Instead she wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve and shuffled closer to the monster.

 

“T-take me home…” she whispered. Her fingers stretched out to take the hem of his sleeve. “Please…just—I-I just wanna g-go home…” A pregnant silence passed between them. Then the skeletal fingers wrapped around her wrist.

 

“Alright kiddo— _alright_.” The skeleton began leading her gently towards the human border. “Let’s go home…”

 

 

###############################################################################3

 

More emo-ness. Jeez I'm really sorry for all the feels guys. But its necessary for the plot. Trust me. ;)

 

Let me know your feelings about whats happening. I am very unsure about how I feel about these last two chapters and Any feedback would be extremely helpful. 

Thanks for sticking with this.


	14. Chapter 12: Slythely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TUMBLR for FIC: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/

 

 AN: .....

What _is_ that thing....? 

 .....

oh well...

 

I have no words for what I am about to subject you to dear reader. No words. :0

 

##############################################################################################

 

Chapter 12: Slythely

 

 

The day following her run-in with Asgore, Charlotte got up and spent the better half of the morning scouring the internet for information about the Murders and the six human souls.

 

Gathering said information was much easier said than done. Sure there were plenty of blogs and conspiracy theory sites raving about Asgore’s alleged murder spree. But none of them seemed particularly credible. And the ones that were simply restated information she’d already heard.

There were allegedly 6 other humans that had fallen before frisk. It was believed that Asgore had killed them and taken their souls. Dark magic. Blood ritual. Yada yada yada. She already knew all of that. Where were the original sources? Why was no one sure where the accusations had first come from?

Switching up her strategy, Charlotte began searching for blogs and interviews that were written _by_ monsters instead of just _about_ them.

This proved far less simple. There seemed to be so few articles and websites written implicitly by monsters. Was it just that the internet was still new to them? Had they not had the chance to get involved yet?

 She came across a few monster blogs here and there. But none of them mentioned so much as a whisper about the fallen children. The thought that all the murder accusations might be the ramblings of paranoid people made Charlotte feel better. Maybe frisk WAS the only human to have fallen down. Maybe the king really was innocent. He had seemed so kind when he’d spoken to her. Despite his terrifying presence—he’d been gentle, courteous even. It would have made things so much easier if he was—just that. But Charlotte had to be sure. So she kept searching.

 

While none of the blogs seemed to give any evidence of other humans in the underground, everyone had a lot to say about _Frisk_. A common theme among monster writers seemed to be to either describe where they were and what they were doing when they felt the barrier fall, or to describe the first time they met Frisk.

Charlotte couldn’t help but smile. Each story was so overwhelmingly positive. So genuine. Her fears about the monsters having ill intentions were shrinking. Bollocks they were all so… _kind_.  It didn’t seem like any of them harbored a grudge towards the child, or towards humanity. This—charlotte realized—was completely at odd with the way the media portrayed monster kind. Charlotte began to feel as though they were being grossly misrepresented— At least as far as the general populous was concerned. In fact, the majority of them had been so unfamiliar with humans that many hadn’t even realized she was human until much later.

Post after post, Charlotte forget about her research and began to really enjoy the sweet interactions. It was her ninth post when she came across a quotation from an old monster called Gerson.

 

**“The human stopped by my shop on her way to the capital. A little lump of a girl with a mop of ragamuffin hair and an old pink tutu. She had been rather quiet, polite, and she struck me as an old soul, just like the other. She purchased a bag off crab apples and made idle chit chat asking the occasional—“**

 

 ** _There_**.

Charlotte did a double take. Her eyes scanned the block of text.

 **“…and struck me as an old soul, _just like the other_.”** There it was. Hidden in an unrelated tangent about frisk. A casual reference. _A slip._ Charlotte reread the passage several times before printing out the page. There had been an ‘ _other’_. 

_Okay. New game plan._

Charlotte began searching through posts related specifically to monsters first encounters with frisk, hoping for another revelation like the first.  After several tedious hours of weeding through entries. Red jumped suddenly in Charlotte’s chest.

**_There! Right there! Look at the keywords._ **

Pins and needles. Charlotte’s hand flew up to point at a search result near the bottom of the 12th page. It was a link to a blog entry but when she clicked on it the website claimed that the entry had been deleted and that the author no long had an account with the website. Charlotte frowned.

_There isn’t anything here…_

**_The cache. See if you can view a screenshot of the page from a previous date._ **

 

Bingo.

 

Red had been right. There was a screenshot of the post before it had been deleted.

 

**“I wasn’t old enough to have been around before the barrier went up. Hell, I can name only three that can still claim such a thing. But I recognized the human for what she was the moment I saw her.  How could I not? She was so similar to the one I’d seen as a child. The one king Asgore had in his possession. It’s been nearly 30 years, but can still remember the tiny struggling creature pinned between the king’s claws. It was stubborn—determined, and it’d given him quite a lot of grief with its fighting. I found myself rooting for it, suppressing a laugh every time its tiny shoe covered foot connected with the king’s nose. My father, however; was not amused. He hovered over the scene, clicking his tongue disapprovingly as the human writhed, spitting obscenities that would make even salty old Gerson blush.  But they gave in eventually. I was disappointed. “**

**“When I first encountered Frisk she was in Hotland, near the MTT resort. I saw her, but she did not see me. That was good. I was never too good with small talk anyway. She was pudgier than the last, and I had the sudden urge to grab her. To _squeeze_ her. To keep her for my own. But I knew too well about King Asgore’s decree regarding fallen humans. So reluctantly I let her pass. Frisk was so determined, that I found myself rooting for her as well. She was strong. I hoped perhaps she would not meet the same sad end as the first.”**

Charlotte stared at the entry. Two simple paragraphs—that changed absolutely everything. This proved it. At least one other human had fallen before Frisk. A human it seemed had come into King Asgore’s dominion. A ‘first’ as the writer called it.  And one—it seemed—that had met some sort of unpleasant demise. It also mentioned a law or decree from Asgore regarding humans, but it did not elaborate and Charlotte began to feel frustrated with the lack of information. She was so close to a breakthrough…

But most compelling bit of evidence was the fact that the blog and profile had been deleted just two days after Frisk’s death.  There was so much there to consider, and yet it raised more questions than it answered. Charlotte needed to know more. She needed to talk to the writer. Meet them if she could. There were too many questions left unanswered.

 Charlotte printed off the page and searched it for any to identify the writer. The only clue was the username ‘Slithely’. Charlotte dug out her phone and shot a quick text to papyrus.

*have you ever heard of a monster called Slithely?

*I HAVE NOT. WHY???? :-O

Charlotte chewed her lower lip choosing her reply carefully. It wasn’t that she really had anything to hide from papyrus. She just didn’t want Sans getting wind of what she was doing. He worked for the king after all, he of all people would be the least approving of her digging for information that clearly were not supposed to be found.

*Nothing. They just seemed interesting is all, and I was hoping to talk to them. But I can’t find their number or address anywhere.

Papyrus didn’t answer. Charlotte wondered if she had been too obvious in her nosing. She started another google search, hoping that the username wasn’t just a nonsensical pseudonym.  This time she searched the keywords ‘Slithely’ and ‘monster’. What she found was several news reports and a Wikipedia article.

The Wikipedia article defined Slithely as: **The first monster from Ebbot to be charged with assault against a human.**

 _Oh. That didn’t sound pleasant._ She read on.

**“Slithely, a short tempered ophidian monster—was arrested earlier this afternoon for attempting to strangle an ABC news reporter. The reason behind her attack is unclear but the charges against the monster were later dropped. Officially chalked-up as a ‘cultural misunderstanding’.”**

 

**_Ophidian?_ **

_It means ‘snake-like’_

**_Oh. Lovely._ **

Charlotte felt Red snort.

**_Sure know how to pick em. Don’t you?_ **

Charlotte’s phone buzzed.

*NYEH HEH HEH!!!1 HUMAN! I HAVE LOCATED MISS SLITHELY!!!! :-D

Charlotte scrambled to reply.

*Really?! How?

*IT WAS A SIMPLE PUZZLE FOR THE GREAT PAPYRUS!! I MERELY LOOKED HER UP ON THE UNDERNET!

Undernet…? Charlotte turned the unfamiliar word over in her head. Was that like some kind of monster internet site? She shook it off. Not important. Her phone buzzed again and she found that papyrus had sent her the full address. The monster appeared to live about a thirty minute drive from her home, farther north in a smaller farming town closer to the base of mount Ebbot.  Charlotte let out a whoop and jumped up, doing an impromptu victory dance. Her grey cat Asriel watched her lazily from his usual spot on her bed.

*PAPYRUS YOU ARE SO AWESOME!!! SERIOUSLY I LOVE YOU SO MUCH RIGHT NOW! THANK YOU!!!

Charlotte texted back then plugged the address into her phone. The directions popped up with a little ping and Charlotte swelled with determination. _She had a lead_.

  *****************************************************

 

 

 _I’m surprised you’re letting me do this._ Charlotte said as the last bus pulled away, leaving her standing alone on the countryside, near the foothills of Mount Ebbot. Red had been quiet the entire trip up. Charlotte wouldn’t admit it, but Red’s easy compliance with her plans to track down a known human-strangler for information had left her a bit uneasy. She’d come to expect Red to chime in before she made a poor choice, to warn her. But in this case, Charlotte knew her choice was bad—yet her sardonic red side remained silent.

_Aren’t going to try and stop me? Lecture me?_ Charlotte shifted, watching the bus clunk off back towards town. _I’m doing something stupid again right?_ Finally Red sighed. A belabored, sound.

 ** _Yes. Yes you are._** She agreed. **_However… I get the idea that nothing I can say will change your mind about doing this. Isn’t that right?_** Charlotte snorted, starting down the dirt road.

_That’s right._

**_So if we’re really doing this, I need to set up some ground rules._ **

_Okay. Shoot._

**_If this monster turns violent, if they show even the slightest sign of aggression—you are to let go_ immediately _and let ME have full control._**

_Why?_

**_Because in the last fight you had with a monster you froze up. You didn’t listen to me. We can’t afford that kind of hesitation._** Charlotte frowned, kicking at a rock as he went. It was true, she was useless in a fight. _Her other half however, always kept a clear head during a crisis. She didn’t hesitate the way Charlotte did. But still…._

 ** _I can protect us Greenie. You know that. Don’t you trust me?_** Charlotte took a deep breath.

_I trust you._

 

Slythely’s house was off the beaten path, and charlotte had to pick her way slowly through the underbrush to find it.  The monster’s cottage was very green settled in a marsh of spongy green moss and wildflowers. A little handmade path of flat river rocks led up to a round front door that looked like something out of a Tolkien novel. Charlotte started up the path. 

 

  ** _Wait wait, hold on a second. What are you going to do?_**

****

_What?_

**_When you talk to the monster lady. What’s your game plan? What are you gonna do?_ **

_I…was going to ask her about the other human?_

**_No. Bad._ **

_What do you mean bad?_

**_Think about it Greenie,  if they’re really hiding something, then flat out asking her is the worst thing you can possibly do._ **

_But…then how else would we get the information out of her?_

**_You gotta be sneaky Greenie. Don’t let her know what you’re really after. She’ll be more likely to reveal things accidentally if she’s not on to us._ **

**_So I’ll ask again. What’s your game plan Greenie?_ **

_Oh…um_

**_Pull over. I’m driving._ **

_Wha-hey!_

**_I’ll help you get your foot in the door. Then you can take over._ **

_Fine…_

For a few moments Red was completely silent, giving off the faintest buzz of cognition. She was thinking hard.

Charlotte’s fingers snapped. She bend down and rubbed dirt on her hands, then patted it over her face.

_What are you doing?_

**_Greenie. I need you to cry for me._ **

_Cry?_

**_We’re pretending to be lost. Only reason I can think for us to wander up to this random strangler’s house. If you want me to get you inside I need you to look more shaky and pathetic._ **

_I…I can’t just cry on demand.._

**_Oh please. You’re always bitching and moaning about something. At least it’ll be useful for once._ **

_Hey!_

Riiiip! Red tore the sleeve off of Charlotte’s blouse and tossed it aside. **_Just think about something sad._**

_That was my favorite shirt!_

**_So cry about it. You cry about everything else._**

_If you need tears so much then why don’t you cry?_ Charlotte huffed. Red faltered.

**_I can’t._ **

_Oh? Why not?_

**_I just can’t._ **

_Ahah! See? Its not so easy to just cry on demand._

Red inhaled deeply, seeming to grow cold and calm. _Pins and needles_. Charlotte’s body strode over to the pathway and sat down.  She reached over and picked up a large rock up from the ground. It was heavy, and took two hands to properly lift.

_What are you doing…?_

Red ignored her. She slid Charlotte’s ankle over a sturdy rock, adjusting the angle purposefully. Then she hoisted up the heavy rock and held It high above her head.

_Wha- are you insane?! Stop!_

Red heaved back and brought the rock down  as hard as she could. Charlotte let out a panicked scream. But the rock never connected with her ankle. It came down a little to the left, hitting the dirt. Charlotte shook, staring in terror at the rock that had nearly crushed her ankle. Tears cut unbidden down her cheeks. She felt her lips form a wide grin. Red vibrated in her ribs. more gleeful than Charlotte had ever felt from the magic. It vibrated so hard that it hurt her chest. Red was laughing at her.

 

**_Did you really think I’d cripple us Greenie?_ **

_You….y-you have a sick sense of humor…_ Charlotte let her breathing slow, burning face sinking between her knees.

 ** _Well, it was better than actually hurting you._** The voice mused. Charlotte felt herself jerk to her feet and begin walking towards the front door.

She rapt on it. there was a stirring in the house. The door opened a crack, and a slitted, reptilian yellow eye peered out to regard them.

 ** _“I-I’m so sorry to b-b-bother you!”_** Red whimpered, ducking Charlotte's shoulders and looking up through her eyelashes at the stranger. “ ** _b-but I-I’m lost and I can’t find my way back to the human t-town.”_** Charlotte cringed at Red’s impression of her. Red vibrated again. Of course she found it all hilarious. The eye looked her up and down.

“What happened to your shirt? Did you fall down?” The voice sounded mature, feminine, like a woman in her early fifties perhaps. Their words were laced with concern, and Charlotte felt a stab of guilt. The monster seemed like such a nice old lady too...

“ ** _I-I don’t know… there was a ravine. R-rocks… I-I hit my head….”_** Charlotte’s arms wrapped around herself pitifully. Oh, Red was enjoying herself immensely. The presence jabbed at Charlotte’s soul—

The equivalent of elbowing someone in the ribs to get their attention. Charlotte’s face hiccupped, but inside she could feel Red shooting her a playful look. Then she repeated Charlotte’s words from the previous evening, with such accuracy that it sent a shiver down Charlotte’s spine.

 “ ** _Please…I-I just wanna go home…”_**

The door swung open and a shape shot out at her, beige scales filling her view. Charlotte let out a yelp as she was suddenly enclosed by coils as big around as her own waist.

“OHHHHHH!” The female voice cooed. In an instant Charlotte was face to face with a beaming bow-shaped, snaggle toothed grin on a wide, monstrous head that looked for all the world like a hooded cobra. The slitted yellow eyes were fixed on Charlotte. The little black pupils turned into what looked like upside down hearts.  The coils gave her a squeeze. “Come heeeeere my squishhhh…” The round door behind Charlotte shut with a reverberating thud.

 

 

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Welp. Looks like Charlotte managed to work her way into Slythely’s good graces. Though I’m not sure getting back out of them will be as easy….

Slythley is pronounced (SU- LITHE- LEE)

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the hell out of this character.

Prepare to be squished squish-teen times…

 


	15. Chapter 13: Questions and Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> to all of you who take the time to write reviews—THANK YOU!
> 
> You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that you’re enjoying this story. It gets me pumped to write more and keeps me going. So thanks guys, you’re awesome.
> 
>  
> 
> That being said, you guys have no idea how excited I am to write some of the next few chapters. Can’t tell you why, but lets just say I’ve been chomping at the bit to start writing.
> 
>  
> 
> TUMBLR for FIC: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/  
> ######################################################################3

 

 

 

 

Chapter 13: Questions and Answers

 

 

 

“Oh my dear sweet squishy child! Come in! Come in!” The snake woman gasped. Charlotte felt Red reel in disgust when the coils started squeezing them again. It wasn’t painful, or even very hard, but it caught Charlotte off guard and she let out a gasp. Red recoiled, relinquishing control so she wouldn’t have to feel the coils.  “You poor thing! You must be so famished! Please! Don’t be shy, Come in!”

Charlotte, having very little say in the matter— was dragged along by the coils into a quaint little sitting room. The coils rose up and set her onto a large couch with clear plastic over the seats. Then they released her.

“There now! Just squish right here on the sofa dear—that’s the ticket. We’ll get you all fixed up.”

The snake woman began to dig through an old trunk in the corner, and Charlotte realized numbly, that the snake had _arms_. The long snake body gave way to what looked like a fairly humanoid upper torso. The snake woman had two, pudgy little arms, and wore a cute polka dot apron over her front. Charlotte shook her head slowly, reminding herself that this wasn’t an actual snake—just an ordinary monster who happened to look like one.

_Like papyrus._

 “ah!” Slythley pulled a multicolored blanket from the trunk. At least—it _looked_ like a blanket. The object was made of expertly crocheted yarn, like an afghan blanket. However the shape was off. It appeared to be shaped like very long, gigantic sock that went on and on and on… Slythely held it up, squinting at the blanket. “hm.” She glanced at Charlotte with measuring eyes. Then she clucked, shrugging it off.

“There we are, dearie lets get you all warmed up…” the old snake began wrapping the blanket around Charlotte’s shoulders. “Can’t tell you how pleased I am that you dropped in. Rarely get visitors this far up the mountain. Bit secluded, but the sun—ooh! The sunshine is doing wonders for my complexion.” Slythely chattered on as she wrapped the blanket around charlotte…. And around….and around… Charlotte nodded mechanically throwing in ‘hm’s and ‘yes ma’am’s when she deemed it appropriate.  But the snake kept talking, and the blanket kept wrapping. Just how long was this thing?

 

“There! All snug!” the snake clapped her hands together beaming down at Charlotte. The human—to her credit—could no longer move her arms under all the layers. But she forced a nervous grin back to the snake woman.

“Heh…thank you ma’am…”

There was a whistle from the kitchen and the snake woman perked up. “Ah! That’ll be the water! Would you prefer cocoa or tea my dear?”

 

Charlotte tried shrugging, but her shoulders wouldn’t move right, so she nodded.

“Um…eh, thank you ma’am. Tea would be fine…”  

Slythely beamed then slithered off into the kitchen. The moment she was gone, charlotte wrenched with all her strengths struggleing against the blankets in attempts to get her arms free. The itchy woolen sock-blanket was hot, and it didn’t allow for much give. Soon she was sweating, trying to break free, but the coils of blanket held firm and she finally she gave up, leaning back against the sofa, panting softly.

**_Welp. Old bag has us right where she wants us now._ **

Red grumbled. Charlotte shut her eyes, still catching her breath.

_Looks like._

**_What horrors do you think she has in store for us? Tea cakes?_ **

****

_Shouldn’t make fun of her… she’s nice…._

**_Nice? pfft.  So you got a battle plan or what?_ **

_I’m….still thinking…_

**_I’ve got some ideas…_ **

_Think I’m really going to trust you again after last time?_

**_The rock thing? That was a joke._ **

_Pretty mean joke._

**_It got us inside, didn’t it?_ **

_Next time you wanna get your foot in the door, it’d better not be mine!_

**_Noted. So…may I…?_ **

_Fine…just one question. Then its my turn. Okay?_

**_Yes yes, fine._ **

****

“Bags or leaves?” Slythley’s voice snapped them out of their conversation.

 

“sorry?” Charlotte said.

 

“I said,  do you prefer tea leaves or tea bags?” Slythley repeated,  setting up a bone china teaset on the table before them.

“Oh, tea bags please-“ Charlotte began, but was elbowed in the soul as Red scooted over to take control.

 ** _“you have such a lovely home Mrs. Slythely,”_** Red hummed. They reached for the proffered tea cup, before realizing Charlotte’s arms were still pinned to her sides. She forced a grin. _**“Very…**_ **homey…** _ **”**_

 

“Thank you dear! I’d like to think so!” Slythely came to settle up close to Charlotte of the sofa, wrapping a coil around the entire thing. Charlotte bumped red, irritably. She didn’t like being cut off mid sentence.

 

 ** _“So, what do you do for a living?”_** Red questioned. **_“No wait, let me guess…interior designer!”_** Red winked charlotte’s eye sticking out her tongue just slightly. Charlotte frowned internally. How did Red get so good at charming people?

 

The snake lady let out another tittering laugh, her coils tightening around the sofa.

“You flatter me child! No no. In my day, I was the underground’s most reputable dance instructor!”

 

Both Red and Charlotte paused at this. Charlotte’s eyes  slid to the snake body.

 

 

“ A…A dance instructor?...wow..” Charlotte piped up, regaining control.

“I was one of the best in my day. Did you know that I instructed mettaton? Ha! That was years ago, back when the dear still went by hapstablook, and still glowed pink everytime anyone gave him a compliment!”Charlotte nodded encouragingly. Even though she hadn’t a clue what the snake lady was going on about. Red shoved into her soul.

**_I wasn’t finished._ **

_I promised you one question and you asked it. Now its my turn._

**_But it was a leading question. You dolt, don’t you know how to work a conversation?_ **

_Uhgh. Fine. Go ahead and finish…and stop ignoring her while she talks! Its super rude!_

**_Oh yeah…_ **

 

 “—He really was a prima dona, even back then—but he really was quite good, despite the fact that—you know—he hadn’t any feet…”

Red grinned toothily, letting out a little chuckle.

“ ** _That’s incredible ma’am. Wish I could have seen it. I’ll bet you were good._** ” Red nodded.  “ ** _What got you interested into dancing anyway? Were your parents dancers?”_**

_Oh I see…_

_“Dancers?!_ MY parents?! HA!” The snake lady laughed shaking her head. “ No no no no, my dear girl. My parents, grandparents and great-grandparents were all pediatricians.  None of them were too keen on my _unconventional_ hobbies…”

 

**“Pediatricians? You mean like…. Children doctors?”**

She laughed, holding up her hand to wiggle her clawed fingers.

“Gives a whole new meaning to the term ‘cold doctor hands’, doesn’t it?” The snake lady cuddled in closer, letting out a long sigh.

“But no, I was stubborn. Practiced every chance I could get.  They eventually learned to live with a dancing snake for a daughter.” She shrugged. “But then we were all a bit optimistic back then. I remember when-“

 

_Pediatricians!_

**_I know, I heard._ **

_If king Asgore was going to hurt the human why did he take them to see a doctor?_

**_Search me._ **

_This could mean he actually cared about the humans that fell! This-this…_

**_Maybe. There’s also the possibility that the doctor was in on it too though. And what about the decree about fallen humans? What was that all about?_ **

_And why would it make Slythely reluctant to even speak to Frisk? Why was she worried something bad would happen to them…?_

**_And why cover it up?_ **

****

“More tea dear?” Slythley said out of the blue, holding a bone china teapot up politely. Charlotte blinked glancing down at the untouched now cold tea sitting before her on the table.

 

“Oh, um… no thank you.” Charlotte replied. The conversation dwindled into a comfortable silence.

**_Well, what are you waiting for? Ask her your questions._ **

_Uh…._

**_And be subtle…_ **

_Right…_

“Miss Slythley?” Charlotte piped up. “What do you think of King Asgore?”

The snake woman’s polite smile wilted, her eyes focusing on Charlotte’s face.

 ** _What the- how is THAT subtle greenie!?_** The old snake  lowered her teacup to the table.

  
“Why do you ask dearie?” Slythely asked. Charlotte ducked her head.

 

“I-I dunno… I mean—“ Charlotte ran a hand over her hair. “I see him on the news all the time… But I don’t really know anything about him…”  The snake studied Charlotte’s blushing face for a long moment. Then she sighed.

 

“King Asgore is a complicated man. As I’m sure you’re aware.” Slythely said.

**_The hell are you doing Greenie?_ **

_You already tried being sneaky. Let me try being honest…_

 “I don’t mean to offend you or anything ma’am. It’s just that, well…” Charlotte suppressed a shudder, looking into her untouched tea. “He frightens me.”

“Why that’s—“The snake woman began but seemed to think better of it and shut her mouth. She frowned, regarding the human,  then dropped her eyes to the side.

“That’s…That’s… _understandable_ …” Slythely muttered. She let out a deep sigh and began running her fingers through Charlotte’s long hair. “You have to understand… He wasn’t always this… _frightening_ —as you call it.”

Charlotte lifted her eyes, surprised at the admission. She’d expected the monster to defend the king adamantly or at least to brush off her fears as ridiculous.

“What do you mean?” she prodded.

“When I was a girl, the kingdom was full of hope. Certainly, we were still imprisoned under the earth, but there was a sense of…optimism for the future. Nowhere was that hopefulness more pronounced than in household of the royal family.” Slythely smiled ruefully.  
“What…what happened?”

 

“Bad things, child.” Slythely muttered, squeezing Charlotte a little closer. “Bad things…” Charlotte steeled herself, worried about what would come next. “We really—we don’t speak of it… but after that, the king…lost his way. He grew colder…more cynical.

 

Charlotte stiffened, trying to remain patient. Slithely was clearly withholding the full explanations, being careful of her words.

“He changed. And lady Asgore—the queen—she didn’t much like the man he was turning into. She left him, abdicating her throne and leaving him alone… After that, well…everything just went downhill from there.” Slythely glanced at Charlotte.

“Whatever you may hear my dear—please…You mustn’t judge him too harshly. Being hurt can make a person do things they wouldn’t otherwise have done.” She ran her fingers through charlotte’s hair, absently. “He’s…he really has been trying, and for a while I really believed he’d managed to turn things around. But…with recent events…things have not been easy for him.” The slit eyes regarded Charlotte. “My dear…can you _possibly_ understand that?”

 

She didn’t. But Charlotte found herself nodding anyway, giving her best encouraging smile. The snake sniffled, and returned it.

############################################################33

 

The road home seemed a lot longer than when she’s come. Slythely had offered to walk them to the bus stop but Red had settled for directions back to the main road. They ought to have taken her up on the offer. By the time they reached the bus stop, the last bus had already come and gone. Disappointed, charlotte began following the road dismally. There would be another bus stop eventually. She tried to process everything she’d learned. Which honestly wasn’t much. But it felt like a lot. She didn’t know what had happened. She didn’t know yet if she thought Asgore to be a murder or a victim of circumstance. But what she did know was that something terrible had happened. Something that had troubled monster-kind deeply. Something that they worked to keep hidden from humanity. Something _big._ Now Charlotte had to walk that long road alone. Impartial as always. And more conflicted now than when she had started.   _Then came the rain._

 

Four hours in the rain, plus a ten minute bus trip and Charlotte was crawling into bed, a sniffling frozen mess.

_Can’t get warm. I’m going to be sick in the morning. I know it._

**_Yech…You’re_ already _sick greenie. I can feel your nose running. Nasty._**

Despite the coldness, Charlotte thought she could sense a little nervousness from the voice. Charlotte didn’t reply to Red.  She just curled up under the blankets cradling her throbbing head. Eventually she got out her phone and sent a text to Dave, letting him know she was ill, and probably wouldn’t make it to work the following morning. She received a text back, from Dave, letting her know it was alright to take the day off to recover.

Then she sent a text to papyrus, letting him know that she wasn’t feeling well and that his ‘super-meta-movie-marathon of friendship’ he’d planned for tomorrow night was probably a no go. Then she curled in on herself and closed her eyes. Her phone buzzed several times more after that.  But she didn’t hear it. She was already asleep.

 

 

**##################################################################################3**

**Aaaaand another chapter bites the dust!**

**(Say, I wonder if that song is offensive to monsters? What with the references to mass killings and dust and all. Might have to work that bit of awkwardness in later…)**

**I’m gonna explain this thing since, 1: because I don’t think it will ever be explained to Charlotte. And 2: its probably the cutest thing ever and IMO and I need to share it with the world.**

**Soooo…**

**For those of you who haven’t already guessed; the part where Sylthely is describing seeing a human for the first time is a description of her watching them try to give Babycakes Chara a flu shot.**

**Forgive me. I love double meanings. If you haven’t noticed. Double meanings, horrific implications, misunderstandings—you name it.**

**Especially since out of context—that image of the king pinning the struggling child down while they scream and swear, while a steely faced stranger looks on— comes off as extremely sinister and creepy.**

**While in context, that image fills me with so much feels and cootness that I can barely stand it. XD (and since it takes place before Chara fell off the cuckoo-clock  and subsequently still had feels like a normalish little kid makes it so much sweeter in my mind. )**

**The idea of Goatdad, frazzled and unused to dealing with a troubled daughter (Asriel seems like an easy kid. Obedient, goody two shoes) trying—and failing to hold Little Chara down, so the doctor can work is so adorable to me. Especially since she kept wiggling free and kicking him in the face or biting him. Poor goat dad….so put upon.**

**Damn…somebody draw that fluffy crap for me. I need more cootness in my life. XD**

 EDIT:  Now with illustrations for this chapter. 

 

 

****

 

 

 


	16. Chapter 14: Deadly Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TUMBLR for FIC: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/

**AN:**

**I’m cranking this short one out pretty quick tonight. I’ve had most of it written on my phone for a while now so It was really just a matter of fine tuning it.**

**Hope you enjoy this one. Things are going to start moving a bit faster after this one.**

**I’m excited.**

**Here’s something coot. Have at it.**

**##############################################################################**

 

Chapter 14: Deadly Mercy

 

 

 

It was a beautiful day outside. The sun was shining, birds were singing—

**_And they wouldn’t shut the hell up_ ** _._

Charlotte let out a moan, and pulled the covers up over her face, trying to block out the golden light streaming in from her bedroom window. She had passed a rough night, slipping in and out of feverish dreams. It was early. Her head swam. Too early. It was too damn early to be awake.

She was just about to drift back off into another spell of dreams when something prodded her arm. Charlotte ignored it. The prodding came again, this time a little harder. Charlotte groaned, turning over. It was Probably Az wanting his breakfast. She felt the prod again hand swatted at it feebly. Her fingers made contact with something hard. Charlotte paused.

 _Whuh_ …?

She pulled the covers away from her face, instantly regretting it when the bright light stabbed her eyes. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, blinking sleepily.

A wide grinning skull floated into her vision. A skull encircled with a wreath of golden flowers. Her brows furrowed.

“Heya.”

Charlotte screamed shooting up so fast she nearly head-butted the skeleton right in the face.

Sans stumbled back. There was a crash and a flurry of obscenities.

Charlotte’s eyes darted around, taking in the incongruent scene before her. But it made absolutely no sense.  Sans. Sans was standing at the foot of her bed, clutching his chest where his heart would have been. His hoodie was partially wet and he gaped at her with in surprise. There was a blue glow in one of the sockets. Charlotte followed the glow with her eyes, up. Until she saw a vase of flowers floating haphazardly in the air, frozen as if they’d been thrown into the air and caught mid-fall.

She stared.

“S…Sans?”

“What th’ hell kiddo!” he snapped, eye sockets wide. Charlotte gaped back, her head throbbing with the strain.

 

“How did you—what are you doing here..?” She mumbled. The skeleton scowled.

 

“Whadaya mean what am I doing here? Pap dragged me outta bed at the crack o’ dawn to pop  over here and check on ya because apparently his ‘Tiny-human-friend’ was on her last leg.” He growled, righting the vase of flowers and setting them on the bedside table. He eyed her dubiously. “Why are you so surprised? He said you knew I was comin?”

Charlotte blinked, shaking her head slowly. She glanced at her cellphone and winced. 15 texts from papyrus and 3 unheard voicemails. Oh. Right…

“Sorry… I was kind of out of it last night…” she mumbled, running a hand through her hair. It felt like a rat’s nest of tangles, and she could only imagine how bad it looked. “How did you….how did you get in?”

 

“Shortcut.” Sans gruffed. He stuck his hands in his pockets, regarding her.

 

“Oh…okay…” she mumbled, laying back down. Too drowsy to think about everything wrong with that explanation. She yawned, eyes turning towards the flowers. She smiled softly. Sans shifted.

 

“Pap told me you were supposed to give flowers to sick humans. Said he read it in some human etiquette book. Keeps tryin to get me to read em too.” Sans looked down his nose at her. “Th’ flower thing legit?”

Charlotte nodded drowsily. She forced herself to turn over so that she could see the flowers more clearly.

“Daffodils…” she muttered.

“Come again?”

“Oh... That’s what we call them.”

 

“hm.” Sans grunted. “We always just called em’ ‘yellow flowers’. But tibia honest, our king never was the best with names…”

Charlotte leaned over to smell them. She paid Sans a warm smile. He shifted, looking away from her.

“Thank you. How did you know that I loved Daffodils?”

“Just a hunch…” he paid her a sideways glance.

“My mom always had them in her garden when I was growing up. Said they always brightened things up…” she was rambling now, and Sans fidgeted before coming to sit awkwardly at the foot of her bed.

“Heh…that’s great _bud_.” He leaned back. “Heh, I would’ve brought ya a bouquet of Thyme but the florist was fresh out.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Buh….how come?” The skeleton winked.

“Haven’t ya heard kiddo? _Thyme_ heals all wounds!”  He let out a deep chuckle at this. Charlotte blinked absently, then started laughing deliriously.

 

“Thyme…heh… Hahahaha…” she closed her eyes. “You…you did a pun…”

“You uh… you okay?” Sans was starting to sweat a little, eyes darting to the door. He had literally no knowledge of human sicknesses. But babbling like an idiot didn’t seem like a good sign.  “I can get pap if you-“The human forced herself upright in bed, smiling drowsily at the skeleton.

 

“Hey…ya wanna know somethin?” she mumbled. “Lots of flowers have meanings attached to em. So…so you gotta be careful which ones you pick…” the human swayed slightly, like she may fall over. Sans forced a pained grin.

“Y’don’t say…”

  
Lilies are for new birth…daisies are for cheerfulness…” Charlotte held up her fingers, squinting as she named off each flower she could think of. “Red roses—those mean romantic love. Pink roses are more for like, crushes…oh, and yellow roses are platonic…”

“Heh…you humans gotta make everything so damn complicated don’t ya…? “Sans ran a hand over his skull, averting his eyes. “So tell me kiddo… what humiliating hidden message did I just accidentally send you? If it’s a marriage proposal or an aphrodisiac then forget it, I don’t wanna know.” He chuckled, eyes darting nervously.

Charlotte blinked several times, trying to focus her blurry eyes on the skeleton’s sweaty face.

“Whuh….?”

“The ‘daffy-dills’ kid—what do they mean?”

“ohh…” She nodded drunkenly. “Daffodils stand for **Mercy**..”

 

The skeleton stiffened, eyes trailing up to frown at her.

“And…why th’ hell do they mean Mercy kid?” Sans rumbled.

 

“Umm….” Charlotte squinted, thinking hard. “I think its cuz…cuz they’re deadly.” She shrugged.

Sans stared at her, then shook his head and got to his feet.

 

“I think you need to lay back down kiddo. Don’t think yer getting enough oxygen to the brain...” he moved awkwardly to help her lie down but she swatted feebly at him.

“noh noh…for reals… my mom told me about it.” she mumbled. “it was like—a long time ago during this war—people used to give daffodil bulbs to soldier going into battle.” She nodded to herself absently, eyes barely open at this point. “the petals are poisonous, but the bulb itself is supposed to be deadly. It was given to em as like…a mercy. You know, a way out incase something happened. Like if they were injured on the battle field and there was nobody around to help them. Or like…if they were so hurt that nobody could fix them.”

Sans frowned down at her but kept silent.

“So the bulbs are a mercy cuz they gave em a way out. Y’know, if it got too painful to keep living. It was something they could control…y’know.”

“Control…” Sans repeated, clenching and unclenching his fists. He frowned at the woman. She barely seemed to realize he was there anymore, looking as though she might fall asleep at any moment.

“How come you don’t like me?” she mumbled out of the blue. Her brows knit up with drowsy concern. “I try so hard t’ be nice to you.” she tried to poke him weakly in the chest but missed. “But you never ‘be nice back…’”

Sans squinted at the human, realizing she had no idea where she was or what was happening anymore.

“Sorry kid…” he muttered tiredly. When he glanced back at her she was asleep. He smiled slightly, when he heard her snoring, soft and unlady-like. He plucked one of the yellow buds from the bouquet, turning it around thoughtfully in his fingers.

“Deadly mercy huh?” he growled softly. Then He leaned over and put the flower in the rats-nest that was her hair. He studied his handiwork dubiously before sighing. “Looks good on ya.”

He rose and left the room without another word.

 

 

 

 


	17. Chapter 15: Green Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: Another feels chapter. ‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚
> 
> It’s a good thing I thrive off of the tears of readers…
> 
> Thanks for the feedback guys! Glad to hear that you’re enjoying yourselves.
> 
>  
> 
> On an unrelated note, I finally have an illustration of the visit to Mrs. Slythely’s house posted. So if you were curious or wanted to know what Slythely looks like you can see the illustrations at the bottom of her chapter now.
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/6249919/chapters/14962804
> 
>    
> TUMBLR for FIC: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/
> 
> Without any further ado, here’s the chapter!

 

 

 

 

Chapter 15: Green Tears

 

 

 

“Oh. So _that’s_ a Mettaton…” Charlotte squinted thoughtfully at the rolling credits on the Skeleton brothers TV screen. 

Papyrus quivered happily. He’d finally gotten her to come over to watch one of his favorite movies— ‘Breakfast at Mettaton’s’. It seemed to be about a tall handsome robotic monster who falls in love with a human that moves into the apartment across from his, but is kept apart due to prejudice from an evil king...or something like that. The movie was…. _interesting_. It seemed to be a strange amalgamation of every classical romance Charlotte had ever seen. In the third act, the robot inexplicably burst into song and dance, crooning a heartbreaking pop ballad about true love. At that point Charlotte was extremely confused. When did this become a _musical?_  

The film made little sense, but Charlotte found that she enjoyed it anyway. Maybe it was the complete lack of cynicism and self-awareness to it that most movies had nowadays. The characters delivered corny lines with perfect sincerity. It was refreshing. Sort of like Papyrus.

 

Speaking of the skeleton. Charlotte had started out curled on the big squashy sofa, Doggie in her lap. Papyrus sat beside her, arm draped over the top of the sofa. As the movie went on, he kept scooting closer and closer to her, until bout halfway in he actually put his arms around the human and pulled her into his lap. Moments later he had his arms around her middle, jawbone rested softly on the top of her head. A little later and he actually started petting her hair like a dog.

If any other guy had tried something like this Charlotte probably would have slapped them. But Papyrus was just so innocent. She knew there was nothing lewd about the gesture, and the affection that rolled off of him was just so genuine that she couldn’t bring herself to disappoint. So she let herself relax, cuddling in and making herself comfortable. Papyrus seemed to take every opportunity he could to touch her. She’d noticed that during the first week she’d known him. He was always so eager. As if he was starved for physical contact.

The opposite could be said of his brother Sans, who avoided contact with her as though she had some sort of deadly disease. He’s sat down in an easy chair across the room, where he could keep an eye socket on the goings-ons on the sofa. Charlotte tried to ignore it. It had been two weeks since their first meeting and the shorter skeleton had yet to warm up to her. But ever since he’d visited her when she was sick, he seemed to be making an effort not to throw her quite so many disgusted looks when she was around—or at least that’s what Charlotte told herself.

 

Papyrus gave her a squeeze peeking eagerly down at her face.

“WELL…WHAT DID YOU THINK….?”

 

“He’s got _legs_.” Charlotte said, before thinking it through. Sans let out a scoffing laugh. She flushed and quickly explained. “I-I mean… a friend of mine told me that he used to not have any… And that he used to go by a different name. Hapsta-something… I was just, er… surprised is all..” Sans snorted derisively at went back to sipping from a Heinz ketchup bottle.  Papyrus nyeh heh heh’ed.

“THE LEGS ARE NEW HUMAN!”  Papyrus swelled slightly with— _pride_? “HE’S GOT THE SEXIEST LEGS IN THE UNDERGROUND!”

Sans let a sputtering cough, choking. The little lights in his eyes had shrunk to the size of pinpricks.  Charlotte’s eyebrows shot up. She stared.

“O-oh…?” she cleared her throat. “Who…who says that?”

“HE DID! ON HIS SHOW LAST WEEK!” Papyrus declared. IT MEANS THEYRE MORE HIGH TECH NOW, I BELIEVE…”

Charlotte relaxed, glancing in Sans’ direction. The smaller skeleton had his face in his hand, a blue glow trickling out from between his fingers.

“Heh…right…” Sans took a deep breath. “Cuz before that he didn’t have a _leg_ to stand on. Now he’s really _crippling_ th’ entertainment industry.” He peeked out between his fingers. “Heh…Welp… I’m goin’ to work…” without a word he vanished into thin air.

 

 

Since her visit to Mrs. Slythely, her investigation of Frisk’s death and the six humans’ souls had gone dry. She hadn’t had any more leads and was too nervous to flat out ask Sans and Papyrus about it. Knowing Sans, He’d grow suspicious and lie to her and her curiosity would likely undo any headway she’d made in befriending him. And Papyrus—she couldn’t bring herself to upset him again by Talking about Frisk.

 

“SO UM… YOU NEVER REALLY ANSWERED MY QUESTION…” Papyrus pressed, tucking his chin so he could peer down at the human. “DID YOU ENJOY THE MOVIE?”  Charlotte grinned and gave his knee a little pat.

“I really did. It was uh, real different than anything I’d ever seen before—b-but in a good way though!” she assured. Papyrus seemed to brighten at this.

 

“THEY’RE A SEQUAL TOO! ‘METTATON HOLIDAY!’  NEXT TIME I GO TO THE LIBRARBY I’LL CHECK IT OUT SO WE CAN WATCH IT TOGETHER!”

Charlotte got up, setting the dog aside. Her nose wrinkled.

“You mean… Library?”

 

“NO NO, TINY HUMAN! OUR LIBRARY BACK IN SNOWDIN WAS CALLED THE ‘LIBRARBY’ THEY RELOCATED TOPSIDE A FEW WEEKS AGO—“Papyrus explained, standing as well. Charlotte squinted turning this new information around in her head. A monster library? With monster books? Red stirred, growing interested in the conversation for the first time in hours. Red and Charlotte’s soul shifted as if they were exchanging looks.

**_Interesting…_ **

 “NOW WE CAN ENJOY EVERYONES FAVORITE SEXY RECTANGLE WITHOUT HAVING TO TRAVEL ALL THE WAY BACK HOME!” Papyrus declared striking a heroic pose. Charlotte winced internally at the word ‘sexy.’ Papyrus was an adult an all (she guessed..?) but hearing something like that from his mouth was like hearing a two year old dropping the f-bomb. It felt…jarring somehow. She cleared her throat.

 

“That’s great! But uh..” charlotte shifted, running a hand through her hair.” Papyrus… you _know_ that Sexy really doesn’t mean high tech…r-right?” Papyrus’ eye-sockets widened innocently. And Charlotte felt her face flush. _Oh bollocks. He really didn’t._

 

“IT DOESN’T? BUT THEN WHAT DOES IT MEAN?”

 

Red snickered.

 ** _Couldn’t keep your mouth shut. Could you?_** Charlotte swallowed. How was she supposed to explain this?

 

“It’s um… it means like…very attractive—but more.” She muttered, avoiding eye contact.

 

“VERY ATTRACTIVE BUT MORE…?”

 

“Yeah… um. It’s…its nothing bad… but Its…. Kind of a really… _flirty_ thing to say about someone. A-and if that’s not what you’re um… meaning to say… then well..” she risked a peek up at him, face practically glowing in the dark from embarrassment.

**_The smiley trashbag is gonna kill you if he finds out you’re giving the sex talk to his baby brother. You know that right?_ **

_Shush! I-I’m…I’m not…!_

 

Papyrus stared at her face for a long moment. Then he sat down on the sofa. Elbows on his knees, skull propped up under his hands. Charlotte rocked on her feet, awkwardly. A dismal mood entered the room. Charlotte stiffened. 

 

“YOU MUST THINK I’M PRETTY… _FOOLISH_ ….HUH HUMAN..?” He sighed, looking at his feet.

“What?!—no! o-of course not!” Charlotte gasped. Papyrus let out a soft, nyeh heh heh, his big red heels clicking together dully.

 

“I’VE BEEN GOING AROUND LIKE A FOOL SAYING ‘SEXY’ THIS AND ‘SEXY’ THAT EVERY SINCE METTATON SAID IT ON HIS SHOW. AND NOT A SINGLE PERSON EVER BOTHERED TO CORRECT ME…” Papyrus’ cheekbones began to glow a soft orange color. He avoided her eyes.

“I’m… I’m so sorry.” Charlotte muttered, feeling awful. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel dumb or anything…I just…” she hung her head. Seconds later, she felt his fingers scrit gently against her scalp.

“NO…THANK YOU FOR TELLING ME.” He reassured with a sign. “NOBODY EVER BOTHER TO TELL ME ANYTHING… THEY ALL THINK I’M TOO…STUPID AND IMMATURE TO UNDERSTAND ANYTHING…” Charlotte frowned up at him.

 

“Nobody thinks you’re stupid Papyrus. Everyone—everyone loves you…” She found herself saying. Truth be told, she didn’t know how other monsters really felt about Papyrus—she’d only ever spent time around him and his brother. But Papyrus was so nice, so genuine—she couldn’t imagine anyone disliking him. Papyrus shook his head slowly.

 

“EVEN SANS THINKS I’M TOO DUMB TO HANDLE ANYTHING…”  he muttered miserably. Charlotte moved over to sit down across the skeleton’s lap and began stroking his cheekbone comfortingly. It was a weird gesture. Charlotte realized this. But it was the right one.  Papyrus instantly melted at the contact, wrapping both arms around her and burying his big face into her hair.

 

“Shh… shh… you know that’s not true… Sans loves you..” She muttered soothingly.

 

“THERES….theres something wrong with my brother…” papyrus began to ‘whisper’, his voice miserable and broken.

“What do you mean…?” Charlotte whispered. Papyrus didn’t answer right away, sniffling into her shoulder.

“He’s…he’s different now… S-sadder… and he has these—t-terrible nightmares…” papyrus’ voice grew even quieter, and charlotte felt her shoulder soak through with tears. She stroked his cheeks, shushing softly. “H-he pretends nothing’s wrong… think’s I don’t notice… _but I do_ …”

 

Papyrus began to shake.

“S-something’s wrong…I-I’m scared…” His grip on her grew tighter, more deseperate. Charlotte felt tears welling up in her own eyes. She had never heard the skeleton sound so broken…”W-why…? Why won’t he _tell_ me?” Charlotte closed her eyes.

 

“You know Sans…He probably just doesn’t want to worry you with his problems.”

 

“I-I’m not stupid…” Papyrus whispered. “I know he thinks I’m not smart enough to understand…B-but I c-can! I’m not too s-stupid and innocent to handle it! I-I…I can help…I really can…”

 

“Maybe he just doesn’t know what to say...” Charlotte whispered. Papyrus whimpered.

 

“I-It just hurts. Seeing him like this… knowing h-he won’t let me h-help..I just…love him so much.”

 

“And he knows that.” Charlotte gave him another squeeze then she took Papyrus’ skull between her hands and tried to move it back. Papyrus conceded letting her guide his face back so that they were eye to eye. “You make him happy. I can tell. He loves you very much.” Big orange blobs of liquid rolled over her hands. The jaw beneath her palms trembled. She smiled, expression mirroring his own. “I think that you’re doing a great job looking after him. I really mean that.”

Papyrus’ dark sockets studied her, deeply…hopingly. Then his tears ran green. His mask of sorrow broke into a warm smile. He laughed softly, scooping her up into his arms.

 

“Y-you too…” he whispered into her hair. “Y-you too…”

Charlotte wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but she sank into his hug anyway. Eventually Papyrus put her down, wandering into the kitchen. He patted his eyesockets with a dishtowel, sniffling softly.

 

“Lazybones…” He breathed softly, reaching over and picked up a plastic Tupperware of spaghetti from the counter. “He’s gone and left his lunch again…terrible…he’s always forgetting things…always…”

 

“Poor Sans…” Charlotte patted Papyrus’ hand, gaining his attention. She smiled. “What would he do without such an amazing brother as the Great Papyrus around to look after him?”

More tears. More… _green_ tears? Papyrus let out a laugh that warmed her to her toes.

 

“S-SUFFER I GUESS?” He mused, smiling. Charlotte patted his hand.

 

 _“He certainly would_.”

 


	18. Chapter 16: In Regards to the Unicorn in the Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: So this next chapter plus the one that follows it have been written and sitting on my phone for like…ever. I’m so excited to finally get to start putting them up. Expect another quick update for the next chapter. It’s basically finished right now.
> 
>  
> 
> TUMBLR for FIC: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/

 

 

****

Chapter 16: In Regards to the Unicorn in the Room

****

****

****

****

**_I’ll be damned…_ **

The entire section. The entire shelf of books regarding the last 50 years of monster history. _Gone. Nada. Zilch._  Only a big empty gap on the shelves. Charlotte clenched her fists. After leaving Papyrus’ apartment, Charlotte had tracked down this ‘Librarby’ to see if any of the books could give her an idea as to what had happened to make the king go off the deep end. She’d checked the card catalog twice—three times to make sure the reference was right. She had. But someone else had gotten to them first.

Charlotte groaned massaging her temples. When Papyrus told her about the monster library, she’d gotten her hopes up. It was her first breakthrough in two weeks. An entire library of knowledge. Surely it could tell her something? _The whole shelf. Damn_. The entire section on recent underground historical events was cleaned out. They hadn’t even reshelved yet—so the section was still mockingly, disappointingly _empty_.

 

**_Well. They certainly know how to cover their tracks. Don’t they?_ **

****

“Miss Human?” A paw fell onto Charlotte’s shoulder and she jumped. A hulking yellow monster with a face like a rhinoceros squinted down at her through tiny round spectacles.

Charlotte blinked, then her eyes darted around the room. She’d been so eager about coming here that she hadn’t noticed the stares. Several monsters were seated at tables. A few wandered the aisles. Each and every one was staring at her. A few tried to be subtle about it, peering over the tops of their books or from the corners of their eyes. Others just gawked, with their mouths slightly open as if a unicorn had just waltzed in and started perusing the aisles.

 

**_A unicorn would probably cause less of a stir, you realize._ **

Charlotte ignored Red and turned to the monster, putting on her best unassuming smile.

 

“Y-yes ma’am?” _it was a ‘ma’am’ wasn’t it?_ _It sure sounded female…_

 

“You seem a bit… _lost…”_ The rhinoceros woman said slowly. The implication was there—beneath a veil of civility. What the hell was a human doing wandering around a monster library? What was a human doing on the monster side of town for that matter? The monster studied her, eyes softening somewhat at the sheepish look on Charlotte’s face.  “Is there… anything in particular that I can help you find, young human?”

 

 ** _Don’t you dare Greenie._** The words came so reproachful and sudden that Charlotte winced. The expression apparently did not go unnoticed because the Rhinoceros woman took a few steps backwards and hunched over—trying to make herself seem smaller. Charlotte didn’t even notice.

**_Nobody needs to know what we’re looking for. Least of all some nosey librarian that might ask question._ **

_Right…_

“It’s alright Miss Human. You are very welcome here.” The Rhinoceros monster smiled kindly. “We just don’t get very many visitors from eh— your neck of the woods.”  Charlotte nodded, quick to reassure her.

 

“Was there something in particular you were hoping to find? We don’t have a very wide selection I’m afraid, but I’m sure we can find you something.” She winked.

****

**_Greenie I swear…Don’t…_ **

****

“Oh! Um, thank you ma’am. But I’ve already found what I was looking for.” Charlotte quickly grabbed a random book from the shelf and held it up with a smile. “Here it is! I-I think I’m ready to check out now!”

 

The monster’s eyes slid to the cover of the book and she let out a choking snort, quickly covering her mouth with a hand.

“I…I see…hm…” The monster said crisply. Her face glowed yellow. “R-right this pfft—right this way young Miss...” She retreated behind the desk. The human blinked.

_Why was she…_

Charlotte turned the book over. Her face burned. The cover featured two monsters, sporting oddly 70's looking haircuts. They were sitting up next to each other in a king sized bed wearing looks of comical bewilderment. The bed was surrounded by little black question marks in a disparity of sizes. The title sat in big gold letters at the bottom.

  
'How to do the DO;  
A practical guide for young monsters’

 

 

Red started snickering. Bouncing around off of Charlotte’s ribs like a pinball. The Librarian monster flipped through some papers at the front desk, looking as though she was trying very hard not to burst out laughing. Charlotte grimaced.

 

“Ah. Here we are…Since you’re a first time visitor we will need to get you fixed up with a new library card.” The librarian said “Let me just…get you some—snrk paperwork…” the librarian gave another polite grin then retreated into the back.

 

 ** _Least she’s not walking on eggshells with you anymore._** Charlotte covered her eyes, groaning softly.

_Never. I am never coming in here again, so long as I live…_

**_Whatever…_ **

****

Red shifted into control and ducked around to the other side of the librarian’s desk. Charlotte started.

_Hey! What are you doing?_

**_Shush._ **

Red grabbed the big log book from drawer and began flipping through it.

_You’re gonna get us into trouble! What are you doing?!_

Red ignored her flicking through until she came to a stop on a page. She jabbed it triumphantly with her finger.

 ** _Guess who?_** Charlotte scanned the page, frown deepening. It was are record of which books had been checked out and by whom. This page appeared to be about the missing history section.

“The following items have been removed from the public domain and have been subsequently relocated to his Royal Highness King Asgore’s private library Located at the Southside Embassy on Freedom Blvd.” There was a list of at least 40 different titles.

 

**_Son of a bitch…_ **

 

“Ah! Here we are!”

Red slammed the book shut and put it back just as the Monster returned with a stack of papers. Charlotte felt the blood run from her face. When the Librarian noticed that Charlotte was standing at the desk, she paused, glancing around in confusion. When her eyes fell on Charlotte, crouching down behind the front desk she stared. Charlotte stared back. Not even sure how she was going to explain this one. The librarian cast a glance around the room. All eyes were trained on the place where Charlotte had been. A few monsters had stood up, craning their necks to try and see what the hell the human was doing hiding back there. The librarian sucked in her cheeks.

 

“Don’t you all have books to be reading?” she said sharply. All head hastily turned away, eyes focusing back on pages and shelves. The librarian tutted, she knelt down next to Charlotte, studying her pensively.

 “Do you like candies young human?” the librarian said out of the blue. “I’ve got lots of monster candies in my office. I’ve got everything you need to start your account with us right back here. Lets—lets get you some candies…” Charlotte found herself being pulled to her feet and half-carried hastily into the librarian’s office. She was set on a big chair, presented with the paperwork, as well as a handful of brightly wrapped candies, the color and consistency of salt water taffy. Before Charlotte could say a word the librarian had patted her shoulder and stormed off out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Charlotte could hear the Librarians reproachful voice through the heavy door. She could make out a few of the words here and there.

 

“—THINK THIS IS FEEDING TIME AT THE ZOO?!—AUGHT TO BE ASHAMED—“

 

Charlotte ran a hand over her burning face. Listening in mortification as the librarian scolded the other patron for ‘frightening the poor little human’ with their ‘slack-jawed goggling.’ Charlotte began filling out her information guiltily. When she was finished she popped one of the candies into her mouth. It was striped pink and cream—and it tasted just like Cherries Jubilee.

_Bollocks…_

_How are they all so kind?_

Eventually the Librarian returned, looking slightly flushed but smiling nonetheless. She took Charlotte’s forms and looked over them thoughtfully.

 

“Come back tomorrow, Miss hu- eh…” she scanned the form. “Miss Fox. And we’ll have that card ready for you. You’ll be checking out books in no time!” Charlotte thanked her. When she went back out into the main room not a single eye was on her. In fact they all seemed to be doing their best to ignore her completely. She wandered out into the street.

 

**_Hey Greenie?_ **

_What is it…?_

**_Do we still have that leftover spaghetti Papyrus gave us the other day?_** Charlotte squinted.

_Uh…yeah I think so. In the fridge. Why?_

**_Sans forgot his lunch this morning didn’t he?_** Charlotte paused, eyes widening. Sans worked for the king didn’t he? At the—

Red smirked.

**_I was thinking maybe we could make a little delivery to the embassy. Y’know. So the smiley trash bag doesn’t go hungry and all... What say you?_ **

Charlotte felt a rush of hope. She grinned pulling up her hood and heading out into the streets.  

_Red, I was thinking the exact same thing._

 

 

####################################################################################3

 

Greaaaaat. So we’ve gone from visiting a local library to plotting to infiltrate a government building for secret records in—what?—1000 words or less?  Oh this’ll be fun…

This is a short one. I wanted to keep it separated from the next one since a lot is about to go down. I don’t want it to be too long. ;)

 


	19. Chapter 17: Foot in the Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TUMBLR for FIC: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/

**AN: another short one before things start going down. Sorry if this is going slow. It’s coming a lot slower than expected. Normally I plot things out pretty straightforward. Point A to Point B. But whenever I start writing these characters I can’t help but want to linger a little longer with them, and really enjoy their world and interactions. So what should have taken like two or three chapters has taken a lot more… ooops!**

**So without any more stalling, here’s my next chapter.**

#########################################################

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 17: Foot in the Door

 

 

 

 

The embassy was an old redbrick chapel near the edge of the border. It had once been a rather spacious church building that had stood empty for many years. When the monsters had emerged from Mount Ebbot, they bought up the land and repurposed the building as a permanent diplomatic mission for King Dreemurr’s monarchy.

 

However, the king did not foresee the overwhelming negative response he received from the humans; when he’d decided to repurpose a house of worship into a government facility. There was an absolute uproar. Some people were convinced that this was all some kind of cheap shot at their religious beliefs. Others even claimed it as a sign of the anti-Christ. During the first few weeks of construction, several local church groups picketed outside of the building and the embassy received numerous threats and cases of petty vandalism.  

When asked why they chose such a controversial location, Ambassador Frisk had come forward, admitting that she: ‘Liked the pretty stained glass windows, and thought the church would be big enough to work.’  King Asgore confessed to liking the windows as well—claiming that the layout of the building was similar to a criminal justice building they had back home known as ‘Judgement Hall’. He had not realized this particular building had any philosophical importance to humanity when he made the purchase. He apologized, but questioned ‘If this building held such a high regard with the local humans, why had they abandoned it? And was it in such a state of disrepair when he acquired it?’

 

 Several congregations bristled at the king’s insinuation, however the negative press all but died down shortly after. The majority of locals realizing that the choice had not been a conscious power-play by the monsters, but rather the naïve blunder of an inexperienced Ambassador. From then on, construction went off without a hitch. And the old churchhouse slowly transformed into an impressive structure once again. There was no permanent sign to identify the building yet, but the property was marked with many large purple and white flags baring the delta rune—the Royal Crest of the Dreemurr family.

Charlotte felt an ever growing weight on her chest as she approached, peering up at the numerous flags Aster flags.

 

 

_Hey Red, I’m not so sure I like this plan anymore…_

**_Not getting cold feet now are you? What happened to uncovering the truth?_ **

****

_Yeah, but… Sneaking into a government building is kind of…excessive._

**_Pfft. Excessive? In what way?_ **

****

_In the ‘rotting in a federal prison until we’re older than that turtle guy’—kind of way._

**_We’re not going to get arrested Greenie. We’ve  got an airtight alibi. Relax._ **

****

_Yeah, and another thing… Do you think it’s right for us to be snooping like this? I mean it’s not really any of our business…_

**_Was it_ ** **right _for the king to do what he did to those children?_**

****

_Well no… But we don’t have any concrete proof that he actually did anything wrong._

**_You can’t be this naïve Greenie. We already know he’s hiding something big._ **

****

_I know, but what if it’s not what you think?_

**_What if it’s_ ** **exactly _what I think?_**

Charlotte had no rebuttal. Sure, she’d thought this was a great idea when they’d first come up with it. But it had been just that—an idea. Now that she was standing on the Embassy grounds, she couldn’t shake the worry, the feeling that she was about to have a _bad time._

 

Two large figures in full medieval armor stood watch before the front doors. Each wore a sword around their waist, longer than Charlotte was tall. However one had what appeared to be blue bunny ears protruding from the top of his helmet—that kind of dampened the whole ‘intimidating gatekeeper’ vibe a bit. They were huddled close together their hands almost touching.  It took Charlotte a moment to realize she’d been staring. She shook herself out of it.

 

 _They’re kind of blocking the doors. Should I try to find another way in?_ She questioned. Red was already ‘shaking her head’ so to speak.

**_It’ll look more suspicious if they see you sneaking around for an open window. Just try talking to them. Tell them about the lunch thing. Maybe they’ll let you pass._ **

****

_Of course. Why didn’t I think of that…?_

Charlotte took a deep breath steeling herself. Then slowly—very slowly—the human approached. She tried to keep her head up pretending like she was supposed to be there. But she felt her confidence waning as she drew nearer to the formidable pair of guards. She thinned her lips, trying to work out what to say.

The bunny guard  was the first to notice her standing there. They instantly straightening, yanking both his and his companion’s hands behind his back. He gave his companion a subtle nudge in the ribs and he too stood tall and erect, peering down at the woman.

 

“Um…hi,” charlotte mumbled raising a hand to wave lamely. The guards regarded her. She could have sworn she saw  the white eye lights in the second guard’s helmet dart nervously.

“Oh…uh…H-hey…” The bunny cleared his throat. There it was again. _Nervousness with a hint of embarrassment._  Charlotte bit her lip and took another advancing step.

 

“I was uh…hoping to go inside?”

 

The guards exchanged glances.

 

“Sure… uh…just one moment.” The bunny guard let out a cough. “And we’ll like…get out of your way…” He paid his companion a meaningful look. The other nodded slightly. Then the bunny guard stepped to the left, while his companion stepped to the right. There was a pained yip and the two came clunking back together.

 

“Sorry bro! I’m so sorry!” The bunny guard winced.

 

“You yanked it man! I thought we were following me! ” The second guard whined. “It’s like stuck in between the finger joints!”

 

“I didn’t mean to! I-“ The bunny guard cast Charlotte a glance before lowering his voice. “I didn’t hurt you too bad did I?” His companion shook a woeful head.

 

Charlotte moved a little closer, finally getting a good look at what the bunny guard had been concealing. A thin pink thread was looped around their fingers, connecting them. From this angle it looked as though the two guards had been play a game of cat’s cradle.

On closer inspection it appeared that the string had been tangled into an unmanageable mess. Charlotte stared. At this point both guards were actively avoiding eye contact, their faces aglow 9charlotte could see the light trickling out from the holes in their masks.) The bunny guard began hastily trying to get the strings untangled while his companion let out a shudder, armor rattling.

 

“Are you…okay?” Charlotte asked slowly. The bunny guard flushed further and instantly abandoned his attempts.  His companion’s helmeted forehead clunked down to rest on his shoulder. They let out a forlorn moan.

“Cap’in’s gonna totes dust us for this…”

 

Charlotte looked between them, still confused as to exactly what had happened. From what she could gather, they’d gotten their cat’s cradle strings stuck in between the hinges and finger joints of their armor and couldn’t seem to free themselves from it. They cast her embarrassed glances, not seeming to know how to explain themselves without feeling stupid. Charlotte cleared her throat, then raised a finger.

 

 “Um… let me just—hang on.” She started digging into her backpack, fishing around through the pockets for something. She heard a’ clu-clunk’ noise and noticed that one of the guards had stooped over to get a better look at what she was doing. “Ah! Here we go!” the human pulled out a pair of fingernail clippers and held It up for their inspection. Both helmeted heads cocked, but they didn’t pull away or try to stop her when she stepped over and began clipping away at the strings. It took a few minutes of clipping and gently pulling away sections of cut string, but eventually she managed to separate them.

“Ha!” Charlotte chirped raising both hands triumphantly. “Voilà!” All at once the human found herself snatched up by a pair of powerful arms and tossed into the air. The arms caught her again seconds later and she was pressed up against a wide armored chest. She blinked, glancing over to see the other guard laughing boisterously at the display.

“Righteous!” he pumped his fists in the air. “Dude! We owe you big time!” Charlotte forced a grin and wiggled a little, trying to free herself from the iron grip. At that moment, she empathized strongly with a can of tuna.

“Yeah, heh—no problem guys…”

 ** _Yeah great. Way to go Androcles._** Came Red’s irritable voice. **_Can we_ GO _now?_**

Red always seemed to get pricklier whenever people showed too much affection towards them. So much so that she tuned out altogether whenever Papyrus was around. Charlotte was beginning to suspect that Red had some problems with being touched.

_Right… sorry—_

 

The guard released her and stepped out of the way so that Charlotte could go inside. All questions as to who she was or what her business was seemed to be forgotten.

 

“Lady dude…” The bunny guard spoke up. “Can you do us like a huge solid and like…NOT tell Captain Undyne about this?” 

“Of course! My lips are sealed!” Charlotte winked crossing her heart with a finger. Even though she had no idea who Captain Undyne was—or why it should matter. Both guards visibly relaxed.

With one final wave, Charlotte headed through the double doors. _She was in._

 

 

 

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up next.....

 


	20. Chapter 18: Don't Touch Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: 
> 
> @ Malik_likeswaffles: That’s an interesting idea. I guess we’ll see what happens. ;) 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> TUMBLR for FIC: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/

Chapter 18: Don’t Touch Me

 

 ** _Face it Greenie. We’re lost._** Charlotte chewed her lip, peering around at the many doors lining the hall, searching for some kind of landmark. She’d been wandering around the embassy for half an hour—avoiding guards, peeking into office windows. If she’d known the place was so massive she would’ve ask those two guard guys for a map or something.

90% of the rooms were numbered instead of providing a name. And there were so many. More than Charlotte had expected. Finding a single room was like trying to find white gloves in a snowstorm. She groaned internally, squinting into another darkened window. She was so distracted she didn’t realize just how long she’d lingered in this particular hallway.

 

There was a whooshing sound. Charlotte blinked around for the source.  A disk of blue light had appeared on the ground next to Charlotte’s foot. Then another materialized to her left. Then several more scattered about her. Charlotte squinted. Red stiffened.

 _What_ …?

FHOOOM!

Charlotte squeaked falling on her backside as spears blue light shot up from the ground, encircling her like a cage.

 

“FREEZE!” Barked a commanding voice. The spears fizzled out to reveal a tall armored figure charging towards her. Before Charlotte could even begin to comprehend what was happening, the figure was standing over her, a spear tip trained threateningly on her heart. “ON THE GROUND! HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD!”

Charlotte was already on the ground. But she scrambled to obey kneeling with her face downcast. The armored figure grunted.

 

“You are trespassing on private property” they snarled. Charlotte winced.

“Sorry…”  The initial shock was wearing off, and a seed of dread was quickly taking its place. Charlotte had never in her life been in trouble with the law. Hell, she had never even gotten a detention back in high school.  The figure paused, regarding her. They’d clearly expected her to put up more of a fight. After a moment the figure grumbled, shouldering their spear. Charlotte peeked up to see them digging through their armor for something.

“Hey-HEY! Eyes down!” the figure snapped, producing a handful of notecards. Charlotte ducked her head. “Don’t you try nothin! I gotta read you this stupid…” they returned their attention to the cards in their hands, hesitating before they began to read.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to….an…attorney…” The figure trailed off. With a soft grumble they threw the cards over their shoulder. “You know what? SCREW IT!”

The sudden shout caused Charlotte to jump, returning her gaze to the enraged figure before her.

“WHY SHOULD YOU GET TO KEEP QUIET?! WHY SHOULD I HAVE TO PLAY BY YOUR STUPID HUMAN MIRANDA RULES?” The figure threw off their helmet to reveal the face of a scaly blue fish woman with bright red hair. Charlotte’s eyes grew wide as the fish woman stomped over to her. Red hardened.  “I CAUGHT YOU SNOOPING AROUND A GOVERNMENT BUILDING WITHOUT A PERMIT! AS OF RIGHT NOW YOU’RE ON MONSTER LAND! YOU FOLLOW OUR LAWS!”

The fish woman grabbed charlotte by the collar and slammed her back first into a nearby wall, pinning her with a disgusted sneer.

 _Oh bollocks oh bollocks oh bollocks…_ Charlotte’s vison clouded in pain. At the fish’s touch an intense, dangerous calm began pulsing from Red. Like a bomb ready to go off.

 

“WELL WELCOME TO OZ PUNK! NONE OF THIS KEEPING QUIET OR DIPLOMATIC IMMUNITY CRAP!”  Her grip tightened and she leaned in closer to Charlotte’s face, big yellow eyes boring into Charlotte’s smaller red ones. “YOU’VE BEEN CAPTURED! SO YOU BETTER START TELLIN ME EVERYTHING I WANNA KNOW! YA GOT IT?!”

Pins and needles. Charlotte wanted to cry; wanted to _hide_. She felt apologies and pleas rising in her throat. But they never came out. Without visible warning. Without restraint. Without so much as a word.

 

Red reeled back and buried Charlotte’s fist into the monster’s good eye.

 

The fish released her grip on Charlotte’s collar with a startled grunt. Red wheeled Charlotte around, instantly to face the monster, feet spread; fists raised as if preparing to strike again.

“ **Don’t touch me _bitch_ …”** Red’s voice seethed from Charlotte’s lips. Calm. Cold. Threatening.

 _Oh bollocks I’m going to jail._ That single thought drew Charlotte out of her stupor—and into a state of panic.

_Y-YOU! You punched a cop in the eye!_

**_I did._ **

_Whuh… but…WHY would you punch her in the eye!?_

**_Because if I punched her in the mouth I’d have torn up our knuckles on her stupid piranha teeth._ **

This wasn’t happening. Charlotte couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t deal with this. She’d hit a cop! Her brain kept hitching on that fact like a broken record. She’d hit a cop. She’d hit a cop. She’d hit a cop. The Fish monster looked equally as shocked, mouth open, turning slowly to regard Charlotte. Her shocked expression melted into one of pure rage. Streams of blue lightning began rising from her patched eye. She got to her feet, hefting up her spear and pointing it at Charlotte, looking about ready to murder her. Red thinned her eyes. 

 **“Listen up lady, I came here to drop this off for a skeleton named Sans. He left his lunch at home this morning"** red said coolly shoving the Tupperware in the fish lady’s direction. The monster’s mask of rage twitched slightly at the mention of Sans. Her brows raising. Charlotte wanted to scream, wanted to melt into a puddle and sink down through the floor. Red shoved the Tupperware back into Charlotte’s bag and gave the monster a cold look.

**“So if you wanna arrest me for that then go right ahead. But you’d sure as hell better NOT think you can deny me my rights or fling me around like a ragdoll. Got that?”**

The fish was silent. Staring at Charlotte with her mouth open. A flicker of rage ignited somewhere deep inside of Charlotte. It was weak, rusty from disuse. _But it was Charlotte’s._

 

_Red…Let go of me…_

Red faltered.

**_She's not allowed to threaten you like that. Not allowed to shake you around or deny you your rights. It’s illegal._ **

_I said let go…_

Red’s presence began to shake.

**_That’s bullshit Greenie… She can’t do that! If she’s not going to play by the rules then you shouldn’t be expected to either! She gave up that luxury when she decided to TOUCH ME._ **

Indignation. Betrayal. Fear…?

 

_I mean it Red… Let go of me._

Another bomb went off inside of her.

****

**_You’re such a fucking DOORMAT Greenie! Don’t you let anybody threaten you like that! Got it? Nobody! Least of all some power-mad hall monitor that smells like cheap sushi!_ **

_I said LET GO!_

Charlotte wrenched. Red let out a tiny shriek. Then she went quiet. Feeling and control slowly seeped its way in. Charlotte raised her eyes to the fish, feeling her rage shrink in on itself. She grimaced.

 

“I-I…I am so sorry! I…I don’t know what came over me…” Charlotte mumbled sinking to her knees. “O-oh…and you’re n-not a… a ‘B-word’. I uh…S-sorry…” She put her hands behind her head and pointed her eyes at the ground. The fish blinked.

 

“It’s YOU!” She exclaimed. Charlotte flinched.

 

“It’s…me?”

 

“You’re that human Paps dug out of the trash aren’t you?!” The fish declared. Charlotte cringed. At that moment she couldn’t decide what was worse. The fact that she’d just assaulted some kind of monster cop and was probably going to jail, or the fact that Papyrus made a point in telling all his friends that he’d found her in a dumpster like an old toaster. She let out a groan.

 

“It’s Charlie-somethin, right?” the fish asked.

 

“Charlotte…”

 

“Yeah, Charlie-somethin—like I said.” The fish strode over to where Charlotte knelt, regarding her thoughtfully.

“You. You punched me in the eye.” She stated. Charlotte ducked her head farther down.

“I know…I really am sorry—“

 

“You _punched_ me in the _eye_.” The fish repeated, letting out a low whistle. She didn’t sound angry.  Just… stunned. Charlotte raised her eyes to squint at the woman.

 

“Uh…..yes?” Charlotte squeaked. The fish lady threw her head back and _laughed_.

“FUHUHUHUHUHU! DAMN CHARLIE! YOU MUST HAVE BALLS OF STEEL!” The monster laughed and laughed, showing off sharp plentiful teeth. Charlotte frowned sitting up slowly to stare at the fish. The fish slapped her on the back. “THAT’S GREAT! I DIDN’T THINK ANY OF YOU LOSERS HAD IT IN YOU!” Charlotte squinted.

“Am I…still in trouble?” she asked.

“Naw.” The fish woman grinned, reaching down to pull Charlotte to her feet. The moment Charlotte was standing, the monster put her in a headlock and began noogieing her head roughly. “You little PUNK! You’re supposed to check in at the front desk! Yeesh! I almost shish kabobed your scrawny ass!”  Eventually Charlotte managed to wriggle away, turning around to stare wide-eyed at the fish. The fish extended a hand.

“Names Undyne, punk. Captain Undyne.” The monster’s shark-toothed grin took up nearly half of her face. Charlotte stared. Was this Monster really not mad about Red hitting her? Threatening her?  Charlotte bit her lip before hesitantly taking the hand.

“H-hi…” she peeped. Undyne squeezed her hand, almost painfully.

“Sorry about the whole, throwing you around and threatening you at spear point thing,” said Undyne. “We’ve been getting a lot of threats lately. And with all those monsters going missing I think we’re all on edge around strangers right now.”

Charlotte blinked. Monsters going missing? This was the first she’d heard of it. She logged the information away for later, glancing in Undyne’s direction.

 

“It’s uh…its fine. I totally understand…” Charlotte said. “You were just…um…doing your job…”

The fish slugged her in the arm and let out another laugh.

“C’mon, let’s get you a visitors pass before you end up putting this place into lock down.” She began leading Charlotte down the hall. They walked in comfortable silence for a long moment. Undyne seemed to be deep in thought, so Charlotte left her alone.

 

“Security wasn’t always this tight around here. They even disbanded the royal guard for a little while.” Undyne mused. “But after what happened with Frisk… well it doesn’t hurt to be careful.” Charlotte nodded, studying the fish woman.

 

“So then, you must’ve known Frisk…right?” Charlotte asked.

“Course I did. _Everybody_ knew Frisk.” Undyne scoffed.

 

“What were they like?” Charlotte asked. She regretted the question the moment it left her mouth. The mood took a nosedive. Undyne snorted, fists clenching ever so slightly.

 

“She was a little pain in the ass.” Undyne grunted. “Had no regard for the rules, and sure as hell had no respect for authority—that’s for sure. She was always running around with this overinflated sense of importance like ‘ooooh! Look at me! I’m the human! I make the world a better place by hugging random people! Fuhuhuhu!’”  Charlotte glanced at Undyne, brows raising slightly. The fish’s fists clenched a little tighter. 

 

“So annoying… look at me, I’m getting pissed off j-just….just thinking about her…” The fish scowled at the ground. Charlotte felt a whirlwind of emotion emanating from the captain of the royal guard. But it wasn’t _hatred_ …. No, it definitely wasn’t _hate_. Charlotte looked away. She felt sorry she asked.

 

Undyne led her to the front desk where another armored figure sat. They appeared to be sleeping, deep snores rising up from them their helmet covered head resting against the desktop. Charlotte stared. Where those…little cartoon Z’s floating up from the monster’s head?

 

“KNIGHT!” Undyne barked slamming her fist down on the desktop. The monster jerked with a snort sitting upright. His white pinprick eyes shifted sleepily from Undyne’s angry face and then rested on Charlotte. He balked.

“Captain Undyne! W-wh- there’s a….a…human!” he pointed at Charlotte with a frazzled half-awake look. Undyne’s jaw set.

 

“I KNOW Knighty knight…” she hissed. “And she needs a visitors pass and map!”

 

The knight blinked sleepily, glancing around in confusion.

“Oh…right…” he mumbled, he waved Charlotte over. “Name?”

Charlotte gave it to him, listing off whatever information he asked for. When Undyne’s back was turned he leaned in closer to her.

“ha-how long were you standing there waiting for me to wake up?” he whispered. “Did the captain see?”

Charlotte blinked.

“Oh, um…don’t worry. We just barely walked up.” She whispered back. He relaxed visibly handing her a pass and a map.

“Thank you…” he whispered. Undyne cleared her throat.

“I’d better not catch you slacking off on the job again or I’ll have you running laps until your legs fall off! Are we clear?!”

The knight ducked his head, nodding meekly. Charlotte glanced between them, suddenly understanding exactly why the guards from before had been so intent on Undyne not learning about their little… _accident._ The fish turned back to Charlotte and her face broke into a wide grin.

“There ya go punk! I gotta go check up on my dogs.” Undyne punched Charlotte in the arm. “Stay out of trouble okay?” Charlotte forced a grin, hand drifting to her arm.

_Ouch…_

“See ya!” and with that the Fish monster slid on her helmet and went charging off. Charlotte watched her go, head shaking. What were they now? Friends? Acquaintances? Monsters seemed to flip flop between loving and hating a person at the drop of a hat. Charlotte squinted, thinking of Sans. Well…SOME of them at least. Charlotte glanced at the map. The library was on the top floor. She tucked the map away and headed off. The halls were quiet. Most employees were either hard at work at their desks or off attending Asgore’s meetings. It felt vacant. Lonely. And Charlotte realized that for the first time in weeks she was on completely on her own. The door to the king’s private library came sooner than she would have liked. Charlotte raised a shaky hand to the door handle. She hesitated.

_R-red…?_

No response.

_Are you there?_

Nothing. Charlotte felt a stab of dread. Had she hurt Red somehow when she pushed her away? Why wasn’t she answering? Why couldn’t Charlotte sense her presence? Or feel the touch of her thoughts on her soul? Her throat went dry. She didn’t want to be alone. Didn’t want to make these big decisions by herself.

She’d been angry before. Horrified that Red would attack someone like that.

 _Undyne attacked first..._ She reminded herself. It was like the first time with Sans. Red had prompted her to violence—to defend herself from harm. That was her job wasn’t it? To keep her safe…? Charlotte sagged in guilt. The only difference between the fight with Undyne and the fight with Sans was the fact that Red had had more control this time. Charlotte had been letting her take the wheel more and more as time went on. She hadn’t noticed how much power she’d been giving her. She’d attacked Undyne…

 _Not with the scissor blade…_ no. She just punched her. It didn’t even seem to do any real damage. It just made Undyne release her. Made her stop and listen to what Red had to say. Made her _respect_ Charlotte. Charlotte thought back to the look of admiration on Undyne’s face after the fighting stopped. She’d been impressed that Charlotte would have the guts to try and hit her.

Charlotte glanced down at her fist. She’d never hit anyone before. Not like that. Her knuckles still smarted from the impact. She shut her eyes.

_I’ve made a terrible mistake._

_R-red…I’m sorry I yelled at you._ She called out, reaching out with her soul to the place Red usually hid.  Not so much as a buzz of acknowledgement. Charlotte bowed her head and turned the knob. It wasn’t locked. The human let out a sigh.

 

_I’m so sorry Red…_

She stepped into the unknown.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	21. Chapter 19: Mr. Dad-Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: Finally getting this one out! This chapter, plus the two chapters before and he one that will follow was originally supposed to be all ONE chapter. Yeesh. That would be way too long… I had to separate them out for the sake of my own sanity. This is another chapter that’s been sitting on my phone for the past few weeks. Been fretting over it like you wouldn’t believe. So happy its finally done.
> 
> Don’t get too used to these frequent updates. I’ve exhausted all the pre-written chapters. Now I’ll have to go back to plodding along at a snails pace to get them out. (Maybe you should try pressing Z repeatedly to make me write faster? Worth a try I guess. XD )
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> @ Tangibility: Same here. I actually was fighting Chara not to punch Undyne. It seemed so out of character to me. But the Red overpowered me. XD I’m glad you like the characters. It seems like a lot of people dislike OC centric fanfiction. So I’m glad someone is enjoying it. XD
> 
>  
> 
> Anyways, enjoy the story kiddies!
> 
>  
> 
> TUMBLR for FIC: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/
> 
> #####################################

####################

 

Chapter 19: Mr. Dad Guy

 

 

 

 

The library was enormous. Massive shelves lined every wall, crammed tight with books. The only light emanated from a large fireplace.  Magic flames crackled merrily in an empty hearth, casting an orange glow over the dark room. Had Charlotte not been so nervous she might have found the space cozy.  The room had been kept immaculately clean. Every object scaled up to suit a much larger being.

A big squishy armchair sat before an equally giant desk. If it had been any larger Charlotte didn’t think she’d even be able to climb up onto it.

It was then that Charlotte noticed something folded neatly over the arm of the chair. She unfolded it to find a lumpy pink sweater. It was crudely made, one sleeve was longer than the other—the stitching was messy as if someone had tried to sew it all by hand.  It looked too big to fit anyone. Even someone like Asgore. Charlotte frowned turning it over in her hands. What was this doing here? The rest of the room was so professional, and it didn’t seem like Asgore kept any other personal items here. So what was it doing here? It was then that she noticed the stitching on the front crudely forming the words ‘Mr. Dad-Guy.’

Something inside of Charlotte ached. Though she couldn’t put a name to it. There were tears in her eyes. Though she didn’t know how they got there. She folded the sweater back up and set it across the arm of the chair. Charlotte took a few deep breaths before climbing up onto the chair. She then stood to get a good look at the contents of the desk.

 

It was clean with the exception of a worn leather book. Charlotte picked it up.

‘This journal belongs to- #####’. The name was so smudged that Charlotte couldn’t make it out.  Well… this was as good a place to start as any.  Charlotte flipped the journal open to the page that was bookmarked and began reading.

 

***********************

January 3rd 19XX

 

I find it a little remarkable that after one-thousand years of ceaseless study, and we are no closer to breaking the barrier than the day they first entombed us here.   _Aster The Perseverant_. He cut no corners when he devised this curse, covering every track, blocking every possible loophole, snuffing out every glimmer of hope.

He must have hated us a great deal. I wish I knew why. Ten centuries of punishment, of suffering—and we can only guess at the crime. The barrier was created by the combination of all seven known forms of human magic.

Pale blue **patience**

Dark blue **integrity**

Orange **bravery**

Red **determination**

Green **Kindness**

Yellow **Justice**

And purple **perseverance** —after which the old mage was named.

 

It was his perseverance—his unyielding, single-minded pursuit that made it possible.

I always doubted the stories, tales of a human with the dusk of one-thousand monsters staining his soul. Who walked away from every battle without so much as a scratch. Who gathered six of the most powerful mages of his time, turned them one by one to his favor, and in doing so created a curse so powerful that no monster alive could ever harness the power to break it.

I didn’t believe, such a man could exist. That is, until I received the title of Royal Scientist, and took up the torch in trying to undo what that man had done to us.

 If the old mage still lived—I believe he would be laughing at us. Watching as we scramble like rats in search of an exit that simply wasn’t there. This—I suppose, must be his final curse—his last chance to twist the knife and make us suffer. He must have known. How could he not? The only way for us to escape from this hell, is to become the abominations he always believed us to be.  Beings truly deserving of such a prison.

 

The answer is obvious. It has been staring us in the face from the beginning. In order to undo the curse, we need an approximate facsimile of the power that weaved it in the first place. We need magic—human magic. We need the combined power of seven stolen human souls. We need real **determination** , real **perseverance**. We need a **_miracle_** _._

Our research on the nature of souls has thus far been inconclusive. We have attempted to recreate the endurance of human vitality through the gradual injection of Determination—harvested from the previous humans that had fallen. But it seems that human souls and monster souls are more different than we had imagined, and all of our attempts to simulate them have failed miserably. In view of this, our king has endorsed a much more…controversial solution.

I never would have taken up this mantle if I had realized just how much it would require of me. When a person commits a certain level of violence—there is no going back. No way to truly make amends. Their blood. Though it is not on my hands it may as well have been. I have allowed this. I stood by despite my morals.

**And this is my reward.**

 

Dark. Darker. Yet Darker. The darkness keeps growing. The shadows growing deeper.  Yet I carry on. If I abandon this pursuit, then they died for nothing.  I _disgrace_ them.  I cannot go back. Not if I want my sons to ever see the light of day.

***************************************

 

Charlotte was numb. She reread the passage, unable to stop the bile from rising in the back of her throat.

 The ritual… it’s _real_.

Charlotte heard the big double doors open and slam shut. All the blood drained from Charlotte’s face. She grabbed the book and ducked under the desk, clapping a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. She could see his great horned shadow on the far wall, cast by the firelight. She pinched her eyes shut. Then the figure spoke, the deep rumbling voice was unmistakable.

 

“Hello?” Asgore called out. “Is someone there?” Charlotte kept as still and as quiet as possible, though she was irrationally convinced that he could hear her wilding drumming heart. She heard the kind shift.

This room is off limits to anyone aside from myself." His voice was tired.  hard. Suspicious maybe? "Show yourself now and you will be forgiven..." Charlotte cowered prodding desperately for Red.

 

_R-red Please…I need you…_

But nobody came.

After a few moments of not receiving a response, the king let out a deep sigh. Charlotte flinched, hearing the door locks click shut. _She was locked in with him_. The King moved slowly, almost belaboredly coming to stand in the center of the room. His voice came again, like distant thunder. Charlotte could practically feel the storm coming.

 

“I see… It’s _you_ again. Isn’t it?”

Charlotte didn’t dare move. She just kept calling out to Red, frantic.

“Didn’t find what you were looking for last time?” there was anger in the king’s voice now, slowly rising like steam to the surface. _“Aren’t you satisfied?”_

Charlotte could tell from his shadow—the king was shaking all over. A trident materialized in his hands. He let out a low growl.

“Haven’t you taken enough from me already…?”

CRASH! A series of thumps and booms. Charlotte cowered. The king had overturned one of the massive bookcases. She could hear scattered book thumping like hail atop the desk where she hid. She pinched her eyes shut.

_Red… PLEASE…_

Charlotte felt completely disabled without Red. She couldn’t act, she couldn’t think. All she could do was cower as another shelf came toppling to the ground a mere feet from her hiding place.

 **“I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!”** Asgore’s voice was almost unrecognizable from the soft kindly voice Charlotte had encountered that night with Sans. It was warped and twisted with rage. With pure frustrated hate. “ **COME OUT AND FACE ME COWARD…”**

 

_He’s going to kill us Red…please- please I need you!_

 

“ **LOOKING FOR A MONSTER OLD FRIEND**?” Asgore thundered. Charlotte could feel his booming steps. Soon his shadow was directly over her desk. **“LOOKING FOR A _MURDERER_ …?”**

_Red…_

“ **WELL THEN. _HERE HE IS…_ ” **

The desk went flying, dashing to splinters against the wall. Leaving Charlotte completely exposed. The trident was already poised to strike, all Charlotte could think to do was to throw her arms over her head in a flimsy defense and wait for the blow. Seconds passing in rapid succession. Then a full minute. The blow never came. Charlotte peeked up through her raised arms.

The king was frozen, staring down at the human with wide unreadable eyes. Charlotte shivered. This was her first time seeing him proper. The first time face to face. She flinched when a large paw descended. It hovered around her for a brief second—hesitant. Then it took her both of her arms into his hand and gently lowered them so he could see her terrified, tear stained face. The king drew back instantly, Trident clattering to the floor. His maw fell open, massive paws beginning to tremble. Eyes flooding with some powerful emotion Charlotte was too scared to feel.

The king’s voice came out so softy—so completely at odd with the deep petrifying roar from before. It was so broken… so lost…so terrified to even hope.

 

“Ch… _Chara_..?”

 

###########################################################################

I’ve got a present for you!

SURPRISE! IT’S ANOTHER CLIFFHANGER.

Because I derive sustenance from the fallen tears of me readers. ;)

Mr. Dad-guy is kind of terrifying. Just sayin.

 


	22. Chapter 20: Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: 
> 
> @ Literally EVERYONE: Yes. Yes I know I’m horrible. If it’s any consolation, things are going to get a lot worse before they get better. But I promise—they will get better. 
> 
> I am so sorry for this...
> 
>  
> 
> TUMBLR for FIC: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/

Chapter 20: Princess

 

 

“Chara…?”

 

Charlotte’s blood ran cold.  All hope of escape died, crumbled by this dark realization. He knew her name.

The monster king—the murderer.  _He knew who she was._

 

 _I gave the front desk my information._ Charlotte realized. Her name, phone number, place of residence—they had it all.  Everything. Even If by some miracle she escaped. He could hunt her down. She was completely at his mercy. There was nowhere left to _hide_.

 _Red would’ve warned me about signing my real name._ Charlotte realized. _She would have had me steal the book straight off and slip away to read it at home. She wouldn’t have sat around in the king’s chair and had story time. She wouldn’t have been caught._

 Red was right. Red had always been right. Charlotte was too naive to make decisions by herself. Too stupid to survive.

 

The king was quiet and still. He just stood there, staring down at the tiny shaking figure at his feet. Charlotte heaved. She stared back at the monster, arms hugging desperately around herself. Why he didn’t just get on with it?

 Charlotte thought she’d been afraid before, but this… the anticipation. The _waiting_. It was torture. She was completely powerless.  All she could do was sit and wait for the monster to decide what to do with her. Her fear cast shadows upon her imagination, and she couldn’t stop the horrible thoughts from bubbling to the surface.

Would he make it quick? Dash her against the wall like he did with the desk? Wring her neck? Or would he take her soul? That thought scared her more than anything else. She remembered the feeling of having her soul pulled from her body. The helplessness. The nakedness of it.  Would he crush it into the dirt like an insect? Would he devour it like in the stories? _Would she be alive when he began to eat her?_

 

Charlotte sucked in a breath as the king lowered himself down on one knee. He said nothing. Eyes bloodshot. A large paw—the same paw that had dashed that huge desk to splinters—extended. Charlotte whimpered as it touched her face, his palm pressed gingerly against her cheeks.  One flick of his wrist. That’s all it would have taken. _One quick effortless motion. And the king could have snapped Charlotte’s neck._ The horrible image rolled around in Charlotte’s mind, screaming at her to pull away. _But she couldn’t._

 

 “Oh….Oh…my…” The King breathed. He released her, paws coming up to cover his mouth. “How I-is this….how are you here…?”

Charlotte shook her head anxiety rising. _Why did he have to stare at her?_ His gaze held such longing, such ferocity, as though he wanted nothing more than to spring at her. To snatch her up. _To never let her go._

It was terrifying.

 

Something moved behind the king’s eyes. Then he pounced throwing himself at the human. Charlotte saw the massive body coming over her, powerful arms falling around her like a cage to catch her up. In a burst of desperate panic—Charlotte found the will to _move_.

 

“Please—PLEASE!” she balked slipped out from his embrace before the king could close his arms around her. She retreated backwards, half crawling until her back hit the wall. The king faltered.

“Chara…?”  He rumbled, voice laced with uncertainty. He raised a tentative paw to her. Charlotte threw her arms up, one held out as if to hold him back.

 

“D-don’t come any closer!” she begged. Once she found her voice, weepy terrified pleas began to pouring from her lips. She couldn’t stop them. “Please don’t be mad! I-I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean to! Please don’t be mad at me!” she mewled, hands clawing up into her hair.

The king’s brow rose, disappearing into his hairline. His mouth coming open in stunned, disbelief. For the first time in what felt like ages, the king took his eyes off of the human to take in where he was. Books were scattered everywhere, shelves overturned, curtains ripped down from the wall. His eyes widened when they fell on the desk where she had been hiding. It was smashed, splintered to bits against the far wall. The king winced, understanding falling over him like a wave.

 

“That wasn’t—I-I thought—I didn’t—!” The king’s paws came up to cover his mouth, his entire being seemed to shrink as he drew in on himself. “oh…..oh, _Princess_ …”

Red moved. Charlotte jumped, hand coming up to her chest. A mumble. A buzz. The word ‘princess’ tumbling around in Red’s consciousness, as if the utterance had called her back—woken her up from death itself. Charlotte’s soul brightened, and Red let out an irritable moan about being ‘blinded’. _Red was alive. She was here_. Charlotte hadn’t lost her. She was _alive!_

 

“Oh princess…” A shadow cast over Charlotte. Her eyes shot up in time to see a large paw coming down over her head. The breath caught in her throat. “You know….that I would never—“

 

SHINK! _No words_. Charlotte’s fingers found the handle of the scissor blade.

And Red struck, slicing Asgore across the palm of his outstretched palm. _No hesitation._

 

Red ducked under the monster’s arm, dancing out of range of his grasp. Asgore froze as Red repositioned to face him, her blade raised. Expression hard.

The king turned his paw over. A long drop of blood seared his palm, cutting down it like a teardrop. Charlotte felt dizzy, like she might faint, but Red’s mind was clear, sharp as a blade. She started backing towards the door, eyes never leaving the monster. Ready to attack if he came at her again.

 

**_“Don’t touch me murderer.”_**

 

  _Silence._

 

 Charlotte felt an ache. Distant. Muffled. Lost in whirlwind of Red’s resolve and her own crippling fear. The king sank to his knees. Arms hugging around himself. Looking at Charlotte as if she—

Charlotte’s head swam. That makes no sense…

 _He_ was the murderer. _He_ was the monster. _He_ was the one with all the power. Why did he look so broken? As though that tiny little nick of a dull blade had stabbed him straight through the heart? As though she had just…. _killed_ him? Then it came. With such intensity that if Charlotte had been in control of her body at the moment—she would have been knocked off her feet.

 _Pain…pain…pain pain PAIN PAIN PAINPAINPAINPAIN!_ It burst to the forefront, drowning out fear. Drowning out everything else. Charlotte thought she would die.

 

Red had reached the door throwing it open. Charlotte got one last look at the king’s broken face.

 _Wrong… This is wrong_ … Charlotte felt a tug in her soul—an irrational urge to go back. To put her arms around the murderer. To comfort him. To weep with him.

But then he was gone. Red was running down the hall putting as much distance between herself and the King as possible. She said nothing. Charlotte said nothing. The agony faded the further away they got. Red rounded a corner, running headlong into a large warm shape. The shape grunted. Red looked up to see a wide grinning skull looking down at her, beads of sweat forming on his brow. Eye sockets empty and black.

There was a fumbling and a crash down behind her. The pounding of heavy feet on tile. A desperate shout of Charlotte’s name.

 Asgore had gotten up. Asgore had given chase. Charlotte faltered. 

_Wait..._

Blue flashed in Sans’ empty eye socket. Burning like a hot ember. A skeletal arm wrapped around the human, crushing her roughly to his chest.

_...Go back…_

There was a jolt. A sensation like the g force of a roller-coaster hit her belly.  And then they were gone.

Charlotte had vanished by the time Asgore rounded the corner. So she didn't see the way his eyes searched frantically for her. She didn't hear him calling, repeating her name again and again until his voice broke and gave way to sobs. She didn't see him fall to his knees whispering apologies to the empty air. She didn't see how his body wracked and shook, as though the sky was crashing down around him. Charlotte didn’t see a lot of things. _But they happened nonetheless._

 

 

###################################################################################

There. I did it.

This chapter was really uncomfortable to write. I _hate_ hurting Asgore. I really do. His life is already so screwed up. I rewrote this several times, trying to find a way around it, or a way to soften the blow somehow. This is what I ended up with.  I really _really_ hate Red right now…

 

But I’m glad this one is over.

 

 


	23. INTERLUDE 2: Sans; Judgement Hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: 
> 
>  
> 
> @Malik_likeswaffles: :') 
> 
> @Arualiaa: yeah... pretty frustrating I'll admit. 
> 
> Not much to say, except... well, things are about to get real.
> 
>  
> 
> TUMBLR for FIC: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/

INTERLUDE 2: Sans; Judgement Hall

 

 

 

 

 

Judgement Hall. It was the first place Sans could think to take the human. It was secluded. Even more so now that the barrier had fallen and most of the working castle staff had moved topside. There wasn’t anyone around to overhear. No chance of Papyrus walking in on them. It was perfect. Fitting—for what he had to do. 

The moment his feet touched the ground, he shoved Charlotte away from him. The human stumbled but caught herself, slipping automatically into defensive position. Her eyes flickered around, taking in her surroundings. She didn’t look surprised. Sans slipped his hands into his pockets.

 

“You’ve been busy. Haven’t ya kid?”  He mused. The human’s eyes locked onto his like a laser-beam and Sans felt a chill in his soul. _That_ glare. _Cold. Calm. Calculating_. All too familiar.

 Chara’s hand drifted towards her front pocket. Sans could see the handle of the scissor blade poking out. The skeleton let his hatred burn. Sharpening it like a dagger.  No more guilt. No more uncertainty. In _Good. Make my decision easier_. He let out a dark chuckle, grinning down at the little demon.

 _Just like old times_.  

Sans been wanting for this moment for—oh so long! Too long. Now it was really happening. His chance to end it.  It felt almost cathartic in a way. Something he could control. The last nail in her coffin. 

The human’s fingers brushed the hilt of her blade. Lightly, almost _seductively_. Her eyes never leaving the skeleton’s for a second. Sans raised a idle hand. He was ready for her. Ready to finally—finally feel free, ready to end this little demon once and for all. Maybe that’s what he needed all along. Just one good helping of **deadly mercy**. Sans chuckled at his own joke. _He only needed to kill her_ once _._

 

_“Don’t…”_

 

The tiny voice jerked Sans out of his reverie. He grit his teeth. _Damnit_. Had someone walked in on them? Sans knew from experience. Bad things happened when he let innocent people get in that _demon’s_ way.  He cast his eyes around for the intruder. But they were alone. The voice came again, it sounded like a young girl.

 

_“I don’t want to hurt him…”_

Sans froze. Chara’s eyes were squinted shut. Her shoulders tensed. He could see her lips moving, her head giving little shakes, once in a while. Like she was having a conversation.  He stared.

_Oh shit…where I have seen this song and dance before…_

 

The human inhaled sharply, then her cheeks puffed out senselessly and she blew the air out. Her body relaxed. _She changed._   Gone was the confidence, elegant preciseness of a polished fighting stance.  Gone was the familiar coldness. The deadly, soulless calm that still sent shivers through Sans’ soul to think about.

The human’s shoulders came up timidly. Large eyes losing all their malice. She wrung her hands, shifting nervously between her feet. She paid the him a tiny, oblivious— smile.  Sans winced. _Damnit._

 

 “H-hi Sans…” Charlotte dipped her head sheepishly. The skeleton could just scream.  _Damnit all to hell! Why’d it have to be you?_ Sans cracked his fingers and neck, glowering down at the innocent little doofus that had just shanghaied his chance for revenge.

 

“Kiddie…” Sans hissed through gritted teeth. He clenched and unclenched his fists.  “You better pray I’m wrong about you…” the human drew up her shoulders, her stupid little baby-face knitting up in bemusement. Sans growled. **“You better pray…”**

 

“Take us back” Said the human. Sans raised a sardonic brow.

“Us?”

“Me” she winced correcting herself. “Please, I have to go back to the embassy right away. It’s important. I think…I think I messed up really bad…” the human rubbed her arm ruefully. Sans let out a humorless chuckle.

 

“Probably the truest thing you ever said kiddo.” He growled, sneering down at her. “You ‘messed up real bad’” The human winced again. _Damnit_. _Why did she have to look so guilty_?  Sans ground his teeth. She wasn’t supposed to feel bad about things. _Why did she always have to make his job harder?_

 

“Please, just take me back to the embassy.” The human repeated.

“And just what were you doing there pal? Selling Girl Scout cookies? This oughta be good.” Sans advanced. The human shifted back, avoiding his eyes. He scoffed.  “No wait. Let me guess…there was this sick dog that needed help is that right? And you, being the mother fucking _saint_ that you are, just _happened_ to be passing by?”

The human bowed her head.

 

_“I went to the embassy to find information about Asgore, and the dead children.”_

 

Sans faltered. He’d expected lies. Cover ups. Excuses that cast the little demon in a good light. But honesty? He set his jaw.

 

“So…you’ve been spying on us huh?” he said, voice dangerously calm. “That’s why you broke in?”

The human wrung her hands.

“I didn’t…’break’ in. Technically…technically I went through the front door and got a visitors pass.” She tapped the laughably oversized badge that was still clipped to the front of her Jacket before bringing up her hands up and shrugging sheepishly. “But uh…yeah. I’ve been…poking around for a while now.”  The human peeked up to gage his reaction before quickly looking back down. Her face flushing. Sans grimaced at how….how _vulnerable_ she looked. It was wrong. _She_ was wrong.

“I’m sorry. I just. I had to know the truth. I had to learn it for myself.” Charlotte said.

 

“And just how is any of that your business?” Sans grunted. “What does any of this have to do with you?” the human’s brows knit up in confusion. He lowered his head, putting less space between her face and his scowl. “What makes you so special? News flash kid, we don’t _have_ to justify ourselves to anyone. Least of all to someone like you.”  Charlotte shrunk back.

“We don’t _owe_ you anything. If anything your people owe us. Yeah…” He leaned down closer, grin widening.

 “Let talk about _you_ for a minute. You kill thousands of our people, forcing the survivors into exile.  You lock us up in a bloody crypt for a _thousand_ years.” Sans never shouted. It may have been better if he had. His perpetually grinning skull. His deep even whisper just inches from Charlotte’s face. The human looked as though she might keel over right there.

  “And when we finally manage to claw our way out of all the bullshit you dumped on us—when we finally have a chance to put the past behind us and start over—heeeeeeeres Chara! Ready to dig up every shitty thing we’ve ever done and rub our faces in it.”  Tears were forming in the human’s eyes now, she tried to blink them away. Sans sneered in disgust.

“And y’wanna know th’ real kicker? None of this affects your life in the slightest. You could just waltz back over to your little privileged world and forget about us. We’d never bother you again. In fact you’d probably never see us again.  Because to you, it’s all just a game. You can come over and slum it with the freaks and then go home feeling like you’re a better person for it. Because you ‘dained to grace us lowly undergrounders with your presence.’” He spat on the ground at her feet.   

“But you know what kiddie? Its not a game for us. Its life. Because of you humans we have to grovel and toe the line, we have to put up with all the shit you can throw at us just so we can keep our _freedom_. Just so we don’t get thrown back into that pit to suffer for another thousand years.”

 

Sans heaved, glaring down at the human. How long had all that been building up for? Anger now spent, He rose back up and shoved his hands in his pockets.  Charlotte sniffled, wiping her eyes on her sleeve before shrinking in on herself, eyes on the ground.

 

 _“Nobody’s gonna do anything.”_ She whispered hoarsely. Sans blinked.

 

“What?”

 

“Nobody did anything. Cept for frisk. Nobody cares.”  Charlotte said.“Only…only I think they would. They would do something if they knew what you were like. If they realized how…how noble you all are. I’m…I’m sorry. We do bad stuff. But we’re not evil. Not _really_ … We’re just… _scared"_

Sans scoffed, regarding her. The human frowned.

 

“You were right… what you said about it being  none of my business. About how it doesn’t affect me… you’re right. And…that’s the problem. All the people out there. The good ones. None of whats happening to you really hurts them at all. Butting out is convenient. Its safe. So…so..nobody’s gonna do anything…” Her lips trembled. “The people who could change things—they stay out of it. And the people who need to be heard the most—they barely get a say at all.”

The human fiddled with her zipper, trying not to look at the monster.

“Nobody is gonna doing anything. Nobody cares about you. You could all go back to ebbot and-and… nobody would care…”

 

Sans stiffened. Charlotte looked up at him. _Damn she was tiny_. Why? Why did she have to be so small and unassuming? So infuriatingly innocent? So _harmless_?

 

“Nobody else was gonna do anything. Nobody else is even willing to try. But…somebody has to start it. One of these days, somebody is going to have to actually try. Or else…else…nothing is ever going to change…”  

 

Sans took a step backwards. His head shaking slowly. _Why did it have to be her? It could have been anyone. Why did it have to be someone like her?_ His hands began to shake.

 

“I thought that if I was going to do something. Then I couldn’t be in the dark about everything. If I was going to do this….I needed to know the truth. I needed to know if…if HE…was really… _worthy_ of defending.” She fiddled with her zipper. “But…that sounds really dumb. Doesn’t it?”

 

_I can’t do this. Shit. I can’t do this… I swore after Frisk, I swore. Never again…_

Sans felt a hand grasp his own. He flinched, eyes coming open to see Charlotte. She was peering up at him with her big, _stupid_ , eyes.

 

“please sans. I need you to take me back to the embassy. I…I don’t know exactly what happened. But Re— **I** ” she corrected herself. “I Think I really hurt him.” Sans felt a stab of panic.

 

“Hurt? Hurt who?” He growled, nervousness creeping into his voice. The human’s expression pained, and she looked away.

 

“K-king Asgore…”

 _Shit…_ Sans grabbed charlotte by the shoulders, wheeling her around to face him.

 

“What happened? What did you do?” he demanded.

 

“I snuck into his private library.  He walked in on me so I hid. He must have known someone was there. He…he got really mad.”

 

Sans scoffed. “Mad?” Asgore didn’t _get_ mad.

 

“Yeah…He started shouting. He got out his big” – she gestured vaguely.—“big pitchfork thingy and trashed the place.” Sans folded his arms.

 

“Did he?”

 

“Um… he knocked over the bookshelves. Broke a bunch of stuff, swinging his pitchfork around. It was really scary…” Charlotte tapped her fingers together nervously. Sans drew in his chin. She had to be lying. Exaggerating maybe. He squinted at her, trying to detect any signs of deception. He couldn’t find any.

 

“What did the king… say exactly? When he was shouting.”

 

“Um…something about…how they took everything from him—how they weren’t satisfied or something. Then he started roaring about being a monster and being a—“she faltered. “Being a murderer…”

 

Sans eyes widened in realization.

_Oh._

Asgore had three children in his lifetime. One committed suicide. One was murdered by humans. The loss demoralized him. He’d been ready to declare war on humanity—then he met his third kid. Frisk—the child of his old age. The one who restored his faith in humanity. Who made him believe that there could be peace. The one who made him hope again.

 

_And then she was murdered._

Sans could think of only one person who could have elicited such hatred from the king. He took a deep breath.

“So… he thought you were somebody else and he destroyed the room and scared you.” Sans opened an eye. “ Am I following this right?” The human nodded.

 

“ But… when he actually SAW me… he got really quiet. Like s _pooky_ quiet.”  She shuddered. “He…he knew my name Sans. I don’t know how, but he did. Then he started acting really—I don’t know—He kept staring at me. And…. trying to _touch_ me” She bowed her head. “I think it freaked me out more than when he was shouting and breaking things. I felt like I was waiting around for him to-to.”  She didn’t finish.

 

Sans felt sick to his stomach. This was a mess…. This… This was some Shakespearian shit is what it was. stupid kid… She looked exactly like that-that demon child. Same weirdo eyes. Same nose,  same light dusting of freckles, same heart shaped face.  But when Chara had been alive they’d been Asgore’s daughter. He knew that. Everyone did. Sans pinched his eyes shut. So th’ kid thought he was about to gobble her up or somethin’ and Asgore thought he was seeing his little girl come back from the dead.   _Damnit..._ Asgore was already so fragile. He just barely lost frisk.

 

 **“What did you do to him…?”**   Sans voice came out much colder and harder than he’d meant it to be. The human winced wringing her hands.

 

“I…I I’m not very good with fights. I just…I freeze up, or I cry, or beg, or-or faint or just do nothing at all. She wrung her hands. I’m kind of useless…”

 

“Get to the point.” Sans grunted.

 

“I was so scared… I thought he was going to kill me… so I just…” She started shaking her head. ‘I didn’t think she’d even be…CAPABLE of hurting him. I-I mean… I’m so—so _puny_ , and... I panicked. So…I let the magic take over.”

 

 

Sans felt a bomb drop in the pit of his stomach. He’d known this was coming. But It made the confirmation no less painful.

  _No…. she’s dead…please no… please not again…_ He ran a hand over his face.

 

“This magic thing. It talks to you—doesn’t it? It gives you advice…tells you to do things?” Sans sighed. Charlotte nodded.  _She’s just a dumb kid. Why did it have to be_ her _?_ “When did you start to notice her? What…what brought it on?”

 

 

“Um….From you I guess?” she said uncertainly. The skeleton scoffed.

 

“Don’t work like that kiddo. Try again.”

 

“W-well not from you exactly. She… she said she came because I needed her…” Charlotte said. “You pulled my soul out…. She said that I…called out to her somehow. I was in danger, so she woke up and came to help me….she protects me.”

Sans’ entire body went rigid. He didn’t speak for a long moment.

 

“And…aside from today, has she ever…’protected’ you by taking control of your body?”

 

“Um… mostly it’s just thoughts. You know, like passing things that popped into my head. Impulses. Grab that knife. Don’t go there alone. Be careful. That sort of thing. Stuff that occurs to most people in dangerous situations…Sans are you okay? You don’t look so good…”

 

“Just…answer the question kid.”

 

“She said it was like turning off your fears and letting instinct take over. But that’s not really what it feels like. Usually she asks permission and I have to let her… but lately, when I’m around monsters… she just sort of…asserts herself.”

 

“Around Papyrus?!”  Sans rounding on her, jaw clenched. Charlotte frowned thoughtfully. Her nose wrinkled.

 “Actually no….she gets real quiet around him. Sometimes when I’m with him…I forget she’s there at all. I don’t feel or hear her…but It’s not scary o-or anything. I don’t notice until later when she yells at me for ‘ignoring’ her.” Sans let out the breath he was holding.  “But with other monsters. And…usually only when they’re being threatening. I…I didn’t know she could just…grab control  like that at first. I guess its like she says though. Just…instinct…”

Sans ground his teeth, a chill running down his spine.

 

 “Is….is your _little friend_ here now? Is she listening?”

 

Charlotte shook her head.

“She’s sleeping.  I think she’s still weak from before.”

 

“Before?” Sans questioned.

 

“Oh… she tried fighting with Undyne before. I got mad at her and made her stop. I think I hurt her when I forced her down.” Charlotte sounded guilty. Sans mulled this over. So  wasn’t as bad as with frisk. Chara had full control of frisk all the time. She could make her do whatever she wanted. That had been— Sans’ eyes shot open. He rounded on Charlotte.

 

“ **you let her fight with monsters?!”**

Before she could reply Sans jerked his finger, tugging out her soul. The human froze, mouth open in a silent scream.

_No no nononono_

Sans scanned the stats. No LV. No EXP. No Defense. He sank to his knees, trying to calm his panicked soul. So chara hadn’t managed to kill anyone this time around. Hell this Charlotte kid managed to keep th’ little demons claws out of her a lot longer than frisk had the first time around. That was something to be grateful for. Sans glanced up at Charlotte. He jumped slightly at the look on her face. She was pale white, with wide eyes. Her knees were knocking together.

 

“Kid…?” Sans frowned. The human paid him a pitiful look, eyes darting to her soul.  It took Sans a minute to realize what was happening.

“This isn’t a fight. Relax.” Sans groaned.  The human’s lips trembled.

“Y-you won’t touch it?” she pressed.

“Look, If I was killing you, you’d know it.”

 _When._ His mind corrected blackly. _When I kill you…_  The human took a deep breath and relaxed a little. She still watched him closely.

 

“What…what were you looking for?” she asked turning her head to see it from his perspective.

 

“Nothin. Just wanted to make sure you hadn’t dusted anyone.” Sans sighed.  The human’s mouth fell into the shape of an ‘o’.

 

“Y-you thought I was going to KILL someone?!” Charlotte squeaked. The girl began stammering, face going pale. How could you—I would never—I never even punched someone before today! And get woozy just THINKING about blood!— And You think I’m actually capable of …of _murdering_ someone?!”

“Yes.” Sans retorted.  At least he was honest. Sans found himself laughing. A deep, slightly erratic noise. He couldn’t help it. It was just so ridiculous.  Chara’s face. Chara’s body being horrified by _violence_. The very idea of Chara swooning at the sight of blood. It was like the time greater dog decided to take up the unicycle, and practiced in FULL armor. The image was so absurd… so…

_Damnit.  The human was crying again._

 

“Is this why you hate me? You think I would hurt someone?” She whispered. her eyes widened slightly. “H-hurt your _brother_?”

Ouch. That sobered him up. Sans bit a nonexistent lower lip. Suddenly Charlotte was nose to nose with him, standing up on her tiptoes.

“Sans…I-I promise you!  I would never ever do _anything_ to hurt your brother! I-I swear! I-I’ll sign my name in blood if I have to!”

Sans pulled a face.

“Blood…?”

The human flushed.

“I saw it in a movie once…”

Sans regarded her dully. Then he grunted, putting on a tired smile.

“I know…I know you’re not gonna hurt my bro.” he sighed. Charlotte blinked.

 “y-you…you do?”

 

“Yep.” Sans hummed. The lights left his eyes.  “ **Because you’re never gonna see him again**.” Charlotte leaned back.

 

“W-what..?” 

Sans ran a hand over his face. He took a deep breath, then laughed slightly. This was all wrong. He sighed, opening one eye to peer at her.

“You still got the knife kiddo?” he asked softly, even though he already knew the answer. Charlotte blinked obliviously.

 

“Um, yeah” she pulled the blade out, laying it across her palms. She held it up for him to see. “Why?”

 

Sans’ soul ached. How did somebody so stupidly trusting even survive? In a world like this one?  Did she even know how to _use_ it? He ran a hand over his skull.

“Good….heh. Good…. Good girl…” Sans took a few slow steps backwards before he turned to face her.  The human cocked her head, glancing between him and the scissor blade in her hands. Sans took a deep breath, letting the magic pool into his good eye. The room darkened, the air grew chill. Charlotte shuddered.

“S-sans…?”

Sans shut his eyes.

 _Sorry to let you down bro. But guys like me should really be burning in hell_.

_Sans attacked._

_############################################################################################_

**Well this one was a beast.**

**For those of you who were just aching for a bad time chapter… well, you got it…**


	24. INTERLUDE 2; Sans: Judgement hall (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TUMBLR for this story: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/
> 
> AN: 
> 
> So the lovely and talented RicaMemoria from deviantart has posted some fanart for this story! <3 you have no idea how happy getting fanarts makes me! you are all awesome! I love it! 
> 
> You can see the fanart here http://ricamemoria.deviantart.com/art/Chapter-10-The-Note-from-Dummy-604514612
> 
>  
> 
> Also, there's a tumblr page for this story now. give me a visit if you have the time. ;) If you find any stories or pictures you think I might like give me a holler. I always appreciate referrals. 
> 
> http://sftdt.tumblr.com/
> 
>  
> 
> @Barewheels: Thats definitely an interesting theory you've got there. But I couldn't possibly comment. ;)
> 
> @Malik_likeswaffles: Not sure if this is the kind of action you were hoping for. But hopefully this doesn't disappoint. 
> 
> @ebonymidnight: sorry buddy, XD when 'cliffhangers' is literally a story tag then you know its gonna get cliffy. haha. Anyways, I'm really glad you're enjoying this story! Thank you for commenting.

INTERLUDE: Judgement hall part 2

 

 

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

There was a word for what Sans felt.

Power. It was intoxicating. It numbed every doubt. It holds off  the sting of remorse so that action can take over.  It was control. It was salvation. And yet it was bittersweet. It was tainted by the truth. The knowledge that this feeling—this _addiction_ was one that both he and Chara shared. It connected them. It made them the _same._

There was a word for what they felt. It was an obsession. It was the love of power. The love of revenge. Of feeling and imposing control over all that you see.

They called it—

 

_Megalovania._

 

 

He drew in a breath and let himself cross that line. Then he exhaled, and let himself plummet right over the edge.

 

Sans _attacked._

 

 

How long had it been? Had it really only been six months since the last time Sans had been here? He’d withstood countless resets, lived more hellish lifetimes than any man deserved. Yet she always returned. _Always._ But then, he knew how things would go. Chara fell upon their world like a flood, swallowing up their lives, their hopes. Their futures.  Nothing ever changed. The floods came up and up. All the way up to the neck. All the way until their broken world was one breath from drowning.

 

 And then _He_ would come. _He_ would stop her. Countless resets. Countless battles. Sometimes they lasted days on end before a reset. But Chara never won. She never ever defeated Sans. Never eluded his judgment. He’d taken up the mantle of judge jury and executioner, all in one. Someone had to do it.  Sans was the only one that could.

Chara would fight. Sans would kill her again and again until eventually she’d reset. Sans often wondered why she chose to start over so many times. Was it to give herself more time? Allow herself to search out his weaknesses? He never knew.  

 

The only thing that kept him going was the uncertainty. The fear of what would happen to this world if one day he failed. If she managed to kill everyone in the underground. Would she be satisfied? Would she erased the world?

 

Sans didn’t know. But he couldn’t take that risk. He couldn’t afford not to care anymore.  All he knew was that if he stopped her, if he killed and humiliated her enough times, eventually she would reset. Sans would wake up in a cold sweat, to the sound of Papyrus banged on his bedroom door telling him that he would be late for work if he didn’t get his butt in gear.

That would have been enough for him.

 Enough of a reason not to admit defeat and just let that demon devour him.  If he fought…. If he _won_. If he kept that demon at bay long enough. He could hear papyrus’ voice again. He could cherish his brother’s hugs and scolding’s, for just a little bit longer. For a moment, he could have the sun. A small beam of happiness in an otherwise hopeless existence. He laugh and tease and for just one fleeting moment— _forget_. Forget that any moment it could all be erased. Forget that he was powerless to protect the one person who mattered most. That he and everyone else he held dear were little more than the playthings of a deranged psychopath.  Puppets dancing on strings so thin, a single breath could make them snap.

And Sans had snapped.

Oh… did he _snap…_

_Never again…_

A turn of his wrist. A roar of power. A scream.

The smell of burning hair.

 

 

 

“SANS PLEASE!” Charlotte screamed. The human flopped like a ragdoll—helpless body striking hard into the wall. The floor. Wall. Wall. Ceiling. Drop. She was weeping, crumpled on the ground, lip split. Eyes bloodshot. Sans looked away.

 _…Never_ ever _again…_

 

“W-why are you doing this…?” the human whimpered. They had passed half a dozen rounds. Yet the human had yet to fight back. She just dodged—clumsily. Ineffectually. She cried and pleaded, letting out a soul-shattering scream every time he got in a hit. Like shooting fish in a barrel.

“Someone has to do it.” Sans muttered, more to himself than to her. “I’m the only one who can…who knows…”

 Sans didn’t look at her bruised and battered body. Didn’t allow himself to feel any pity. Any remorse. No. Only anger lived in him now. No other feeling was welcome.

 

“I…I don’t understand…”  Charlotte whimpered. Sans suppressed another tug of shame. _Oh hell_. She sounded like a child. He clenched his jaw, fixing her with a glare.

 

“I’m going to kill you. So get up and defend yourself.” Sans stated coldly. “That’s all you need to understand.”  He looked away again, preparing another blaster. He didn’t want to see. He couldn’t handle the expression of panic. Of betrayal.

 

It was a little remarkable that she’d survived this many rounds with little more than a busted lip and a bruised body. Especially for a kid with zero defense. His magic didn’t appear to be draining her HP in the way it should have. She would take damage when she was hit. But it didn’t continue to drop after contact. That was odd. Maybe it was that demon’s doing. Sans spat on the ground.

 _Or maybe his heart just wasn’t in it this time._ The human screamed with every blow. Cried out for help or mercy. Sans began realizing that he was missing his mark more often than he would have liked to admit. And there was little chance it was due to her ‘dodging’. She was slower than a moldsmall and had the preservation instincts to match.

 

And yet Sans had yet to get in a single direct hit. He simply… _missed_ barely grazing her soul, or passing her up entirely. When he became aware of this fact he scowled.  He kept right on hammering her. And she kept screaming. It was only a matter of time.  Chara’s pride would not hold out much longer. She wouldn’t let him continue to bash her and throw her around. He _knew_ Chara. Sooner or later she would squash the kiddo down and seize control. Sooner or later she would fight. And when that happened… Sans would be able to conjure up the will to truly end her.

 

All he had to do was keep fighting. Eventually the kid would lose her grip. she would slip back into unconsciousness and leave the grownups alone to _chat_ … _Eventually she would stop crying._

 

 

That moment came soon enough. The human pulled herself slowly to her feet. Blade in hand. She was mere paces from him now, head bowed. Singed hair falling over her face. He'd burned off more than he'd expected, leaving it short and charred as it fell over her face like a mask. Smoke still rising from the ends. She looked like the demon now more than ever. One arm across her front to grab the wrist of her other hand. The knife held awkwardly. She was silent for once. Face obscured. And sans felt a stab of vicious pleasure.

“Heya. Has little Chara _finally_ come out to play?”

White hot power blared from a blaster’s maw and struck the human right in the chest. She ducked out of the line of fire instantly, keeping low. She rushed towards the skeleton. Sans let out a booming peal of manic laughter. Bones shot up from the ground around the running human. One struck her side. Boom. Her hip. Boom. One slugged her in the gut, knocking the wind out of her. She rolled out of the line of fire, and kept up her pursuit.

She was right on top of him now, hair wild over her face, chest heaving from effort. Sans grinned, winking menacingly. His eyes never left the knife as the human sprang.

A direct act? No deception? No fancy bobbing and weaving? She’d gotten _rusty_. Sans dodged. Or at least he tried to. He’d been focused on the knife’s flight through the air, its position—trajectory, speed. That way he could dodge it, moving no further than he had to. The laziness of his parries had always gotten under Chara’s skin. It was a simple pleasure. In fact one of the only pleasures he generally got from one of these fights. He’d been focused on the knife. So he didn’t see her other hand. It came around and gripped a fistful of Sans’ hoodie. He blipped, two feet to the left—and the tiny figure flashed along for the ride. This was new.

She'd never done this before. Not a single time in any of their fights had the human tried something so underhanded. So clever. She had anchored herself to his chest, grip tight, and he could do nothing to avoid her knife fisted hand as it came around fast to connect with his chest.

_Shit_

 

Something connected with his chest. But no attack came. The blade wasn’t buried into his soul. It didn’t break him. He heard the scissor blade clattered to the floor a few paces back. Had she dropped it? Had it slipped from her hands as she’d reeled back to strike? Sans heard the human sniffle. _Sniffle…?_

 

His eyes dropped like blocks of lead. A tiny shivering body was pressed up against him.  hands gripping on with fistfuls of his hoodie. Clinging to his front almost desperately. The little heart shaped face pressed into his belly, soaking through his shirt with silent tears. Sans stared.

 

"P-please..." A tiny broken voice. Damnit. How was the kid still here? She had less than three HP left. How was the kid still in control? Chara would never have let herself stay vulnerable for this long.  It had to be a trick.

 "Please...I don't..." The human was begging again, her voice so soft that the skeleton barely registered it over his own seething. He wrapped his arms around the human, pinning her to his front. She didn’t resist, face hidden against his belly. She was shaking her head, mumbling under her breath.

 

Sans allowed himself a deep breath.

He'd been here before. Hadn't he?

He knew what would come next.

 

Bones rose silently into the air behind the human.. Sans eyed the human numbly, running a hand over her hair. He’d make it quick.

 

“Please…” Her voice muffled by fabric and tears. “I don’t….” The bones were in position, poised to strike. Then the voice came again, so softly that Sans wasn’t sure he’d heard it.

 

_“Please…I don’t want to hurt him…”_

 

The bones faltered. Sans growled, the sound rumbling deep in his gut.   _He had to do it._ There was no place in his philosophy for mercy. Not for something that could so easily destroy everything he held dear. The human was a danger to herself and to everyone around her. That much was clear. She had to die. This proved it.  If she had to fight so hard, to keep that demon from....from…

_Oh hell…kiddo’s been holding her down. Is that why her dodges were so awkward? Why Chara hasn’t tried to kill him yet?_

Hot bile rose in the back of the skeleton’s throat. He felt like someone had grabbed his soul and wrung it out like a dishrag.

_The kiddo… has she…. she’s been protecting_ **me** _from Chara this whole time?_

 

_Oh hell…damnit…damnit all to hell…_

The skeleton squeezed his eyes shut. He hated that little girl… HATED her for this. It wasn’t fair. But….

 

He’d made his decision. One he knew that would regret. One that would haunt his nightmares until the day he died. The skeleton’s grip on the human tightened, lifting her off her feet and into his arms. Her shaking abated and she melted into his embrace. He could hear her tears….tears of relief. His soul ached.  _It wasn’t fair…_

Sans lifted an eye. The bones were in position. Still floating there, waiting for a command. He pinched his eyes shut, hiding the image from view. He brought his face closer to the human’s ear, teeth pressed softly into her singed hair.

 

“If you’re really my friend…” he whispered, hoarsely. “…You won’t come back..”

 

He let the magic go.

FHOOOM!

A breath.

A gasp.

Then silence.

 

Sans didn't open his eyes. Didn't want to see his handiwork. Didn't want it to be real.  Because if it was real. Then the consequences of his actions-- the blame would be his to carry. He took a ragged breath and opened his eyes.

A four poster bed. A cheap lamp on a bedside table. A tiny wide eyed human still clinging to his chest. He felt his soul fill with despair.

 

“Ya did it Kiddo.” Sans growled softly. “Ya beat me.” The human let out an odd hiccupping sniffle.

 

“Ain’t nobody else in this whole damn world can say that. Ya did good kid.  Real Good…” His voice faltered. “You won. Don't let that bitch take that from you. Don't you ever let her take … _anything_ from you. She don't deserve it….”

 

Charlotte lifted her eyes, peering up at him in confusion. Her face was slightly bruised, her lip split. Her hair was damaged beyond repair. Singed and charred at the ends. The blackened stubble had stained her cheeks. Sans winced.

He should leave. He’d done enough damage already. But the thought of leaving the kid in such a state didn’t sit right in his soul. Sans let out a deep sigh.

 

“C’mere babybones…get you cleaned up…” he mumbled. The human let him lead her into the bathroom. Let him settle her down on the counter. Let him wipe down her face and arms with a warm damp rag. When he gave her a few pieces of monster candy, she took it and ate it without even asking what it was or what it was for. The bruises had faded to nothing by her third piece. The visible ones anyway.

Her eyes were distant as he cleaned up her face. But her hair was so charred that every time she turned her head it sent smears of black down her cheeks. Her hair was damaged beyond repair. Singed and charred at the ends. The blackened stubble had stained her cheeks. He winced to look at it. He couldn't help but feel that he'd stolen something valuable from the human. Sans dug through her drawers. She made no move to stop him. She made no move to do anything. Just stared. Eventually Sans found what he was looking for. A pair of haircutting scissors.

 

"Hold still kiddie..." He brought the blade above the damaged, where the hair was still pretty and shone. There was much less if it than there had been before. Sans began to cut. Locks of charred hair fell like dead leaves to the ground. He tried to remove the refuse while leaving as much of the good hair as he could. When he was finished he stepped back to look at his handiwork.

Sans felt a cold hand of dread grasp his soul. _They were identical now…_ The human’s long hair was gone, replaced by a messy bob of short locks. Sans pinched his eyes shut.

 _He'd done this to her._   _Ruined_ her. Taken some of the light from her eyes. Taken something sacred. Something precious—irreplaceable. A level of trust she would never ever get back. He'd broken her. Left her more jaded, more like Chara than she'd ever been before. It was his fault. The human didn’t look into the mirror. Didn’t acknowledge the skeleton’s handiwork. Her eyes were glazed over. Distant.

 

“Ki-… _Charlotte_ …” Sans muttered. The sound her name—her real name drew the human’s attention. Sans bit a nonexistent lower lip. What could he say to her? How do you apoligize for trying to kill someone? For taking such spiteful pleasure in her pain? He could not. Nothing he could say. Nothing he could do could make things right again. The realization hit him hard. Without another word he pulled the human into his chest.

Sans didn’t cry. He never did. Part of him wondered if he was still capable of such a thing—after everything he’d seen. He just held her—selfishly groping for comfort from a being who owed him no kindness. He didn’t care.

A few seconds of stiff calm from the human. Of detachment. Then a tiny hand reached around and patted his back.

Sans felt sick. Why? Why was she trying to soothe him? How could she still put any measure of trust in him after what he'd done? He hated her for it. She was so stupid. So innocent. How could she still believe there was anything worthwhile left in him after what he'd said and done? After what he'd tried to do?

The answer came. Her soul was glowing. A soft soothing green buzz.

Oh…

 

Sans thought he'd seen it all. But this…this was uncharted territory. He was exposed, stripped  bare before that magic. He hated her for it. He hated everything about her

There was no hiding behind intimidation. No laughing. No jokes to camouflage the cynicism—the _hopelessness._   The human pushed aside her own fears so  that she could hear his. Sneaky…

She'd focused in on him. She'd _caught_ him.

 

It was little wonder she was able to keep Chara under control for so long. Empathy is the enemy to apathy. The bane of revenge, of hatred. Of fear.

And it seemed—the bane of _Sans_ as well.

 

He wondered which sin would have been more damning. Letting Chara loose on an unsuspecting world. Knowing what he knew, seeing what he'd seen-- and allowed her to live?

 

Or the sin of removing that source of kindness from this world. Of seeing the power it could carry. The unfamiliar strength of human kindness? The worth he’d thought humanity had lost altogether long ago.  –and destroying it?

 _Oh hell…_ Sans opened his eyes to peer woefully down at the human in his arms. _what am I going to do now…?_

The human had done the impossible. She'd rendered him powerless. She had elicited mercy from the merciless. Gained sympathy from a devil. Maybe… Maybe that meant she was stronger than Chara. Maybe she really could keep that demon contained. Keep her from breaking out and destroying everything Sans had worked so hard to preserve.  Even without determination. Without the secondhand power of a dead God.

 

The very idea was laughable. Sans didn’t laugh. Was it really possible?

 

A power greater than Chara's wrath?

Greater than her lust for bloodshed? Greater than Sans’ fears?

A power greater than **determination**?

 

Sans shut his eyes.

Kindness huh?

 

I'll be damned...

It was time to make a decision. It was time to relinquish control.

_Whatever happens now, let it be on my head._

 

“Kiddo… now you listen here…” Sans took Charlotte’s wrists and removed her hands from him. He frowned woefully down at her. “If you ever come back. If you ever come near me or my brother again. If you ever let that...that demon out on _anyone_...” he took a ragged breath. **_“I will kill you.”_**

Confusion _. Hell she really was dumb wasn’t she?_ Had she really forgotten so quickly? Did she really not understand? The human’s eyes flooded with hurt. And sans felt her tiny fingers tighten on his shirt.

_Nope…Wrong._

Sans took her shoulders and jerked her away from him, roughly. His jaw set.

 

" _Look_ at me. **DONT** come back. I spared your life once, I won’t do it again.” He gave her a little shake. “Get it? I'm not a nice guy. I'm not your friend. I WILL _KILL_ YOU!"  His eyes searched her. She gaped back at him dumbly. Sans grimaced.  

"Do..do you understand that kiddo?” He muttered, voice almost pleading.  “I will hurt you if I see you again. I will _kill_ you. You have to stay away from us. Okay?”

The human didn’t reply, she just stared at him, searchingly. The intensity of her gaze began to unnerve him and he rose turning to the door.

 

“You’re scared…” Charlotte whispered. Sans paused in the doorway.

“Is it cuz of red and me?” Charlotte muttered. “I didn’t…I never meant to h-hurt anybody…”  

The skeleton let out a deep breath. He forced his face to harden before casting her a look over his shoulder.

 “If…if we’re really friends  then you _won’t_ _come_ _back_.”

 

A crackle of magic.

A flash of light.

Then he was gone.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	25. INTERLUDE 3 Asgore part 1: Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: I’m splitting this one up into two parts. There’s just no way I can fit all of this crap into one chapter.  
> So you guys voted. It was Asgore who won when I started editing this chapter. By the time it was finished, I check the poll and it had become a tie. DX so I’m going to go with a two parter from Asgore’s perspective. The third interlude part 1: Then  
> Part 2: Now will be up in a few days.
> 
> @Malik_likeswaffles: WOW haha, you must really hate Charlotte huh? Weeeelll I can't really blame you too much for that. XD Hopefully you're not too dissapointed with her lack of deadness. I need her for crap. ;)
> 
> @everyone: so I accidentally double posted the last chapter. Took me forever to realize even with you guys pointing it out. I’m just that dumb apparently. XD Well it’s fixed now. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy this super long chapter. (Seriously it’s like 17 pages, even AFTER I cut it in half.) Hope you like Asgore and feels because a lot of that is coming at you. ;)
> 
> tumblr blog for this story: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/

INTERLUDE 3 Asgore: part 1: Then

 

 

 

 

Two humans stood hand in hand atop a high cliff. A female—young with hair like a wildfire. And a male—gangly; he was missing the lower half of his left leg. Asgore spied them while he was still a ways off on the battlefield. It was remarkable he’d noticed them at all through the roar of battle—the hail of arrows. Asgore hadn’t meant to drive the battle so far south—so close to the tiny mountain village. But the human warriors were relentless in their assault, forcing the monsters into a tighter portion of the glen, rocks all around—so much more difficult for the larger beings to move and organize their attacks.

The choice had made sense. It was logical. Thin the defense and surround the humans- then drive them further south to reclaim the higher ground. And it worked. Losing their tactical advantage the humans would fall back. Open areas, and a strong offense was always a fair move. Asgore knew how intimidating a full on charge could be—it weakened resolve, dampening the humans will to fight on. If they kept this up, the humans would retreat. The battle would end with as little bloodshed as possible. It was a good tactic. One he’d used time and time again.

 

But for whatever reason, the king found his eyes turning again towards the humans on the ledge, peering down at the action from their hazardous perch. They were watching the battle—yes, that must have been it. What followed happened so quickly that Asgore thought he’d imagined it. The pair embraced, clinging to one another. Then they stood, hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder—

 

 

And _leapt_.

 

Asgore felt a pang of alarm as the distant figures fell and vanished like phantoms beyond the crags. He stared. Had they really just—

Cheers and whoops of victory from the monsters. The human warriors had fallen back, retreating westward. Triumph. Asgore’s troops celebrated, laughing and embracing—giddy with relief and the stale buzz of fading adrenaline. Asgore did not rejoice with them. He just kept staring at the far cliff, where the two humans once stood.  Apprehension falling over him like a shadow.

Why would they jump? What could have possessed them to...to kill themselves in such a gruesome way? The king realized the answer as his troops crested the hill overlooking the tiny village. He realized a second too late. Too late to call the troops back. Too late to stop them before they could _see_.

 

Humans linger. Humans do not turn to dust upon death. So there was no shield. No ambiguity to cushion the blow when his people saw was waited for them at the bottom of the ravine.

There were hundreds of them. Faces frozen in masks of death of horror. Bodies twisted and broken. Women, children, the elderly and infirm. Not soldier. Not warriors. No. These were the ones who stayed behind. Those who could not fight. Gazing down on that disturbing scene, it was the first time Asgore had seen General Gerson blanch.

The younger monsters did not understand. Some drew near. Hesitant, timid. They touched the twisted humans’ faces. With all the blamelessness of youth, they shook their shoulders, patted their cheeks, in a bid to wake them from this horrifying sleep. They did not understand. The humans were already dead.

Asgore strode away from the others and behind an outcropping of rocks. He kept his strides proud and strong until he passed from sight. Then he allowed himself to taste the horror and expelled the contents of his stomach onto the hard stony ground.

The fallen had seen the smoke of battle hours ago, when the monsters still fought in the glen. They had _seen_ everything.

 Asgore had made a terrible _terrible_ mistake. He'd driven the battle too far south. Too close to the foothills of the mountain. The war was new. Still alien to his otherwise peaceful people. He was not well versed in the art of war. He had not realized—how could he have foreseen _this_?

And for the first time, Asgore _realized_. Asgore began to truly comprehend the _terror_ his people held for humanity. The humans had heard whispers. Stories of what monsters were capable of. They had been told many things—things which they believed. They believed because there was no one there to assuage their fears, no one to tell them the truth. 

The humans believed that when the monsters reached their home,  they would raze it, killing every living soul they found. Those who fell at the hands of monsters suffered a face worse than death. Their souls were stolen. _Devoured_. Used to strengthen the monster troops, to rile them up to more violence like berserkers working themselves into a blood-lust.

This is what the humans had been told. This was the fate they feared when they saw the monsters coming. When Asgore had driven the troops  far too close to their home.  
Asgore ached, retching and heaving until he felt empty. The humans had been _defenseless_. All those who could not have gone to war with the monsters. The innocent.  Asgore would not have killed them. He would not have allowed his people to exact petty vengeance on a people who could not fight back. In those days the thought of revenge still filled his idealistic mind with revulsion. 

But…

When the humans had seen his armies. Seen them driving away their strong ones—their protectors. When they saw the monsters nearing they'd made a decision. Perhaps it was better to die by their own volition, than to wait to be killed. To have their deaths--their stolen souls-- strengthen their enemies. It made sense once Asgore considered it. In some bleak and cynical way it was almost _noble_.

Hundreds died. Hundreds fell either by their own volition _or by being pushed_. This was the arithmetic of madness. The summation of ignorance and fear. All were swallowed up by it. All became a bloody lifeless nightmare at the bottom of the gorge. All were broken. All perished. All died. 

 

Save _one._

 

It was one of the younger monsters who found him. One of the hopefuls who went about trying to rouse the lifeless humans. The elders—those who understood-- hadn’t the heart to stop them. To tell them it was in vain.  The young prodded with gentle claws, hoping to awaken them.

And one _woke_.

 

The boy had fallen like the others, yet miraculously, come away with only a few scrapes and bruises. They'd found him lying face down in a patch of wild asters. It was General Gerson who broke the silence--the _shock_. It was Gerson who ordered the human to be taken in to custody. Several guardsmen surrounded the boy. He fought madly when they approached, fists raised, head high as if he was ready to take on the entire army by himself. But eventually he was captured.  

Asgore remembered all too well their first meeting. He had entered the small building Gerson had repurposed for the human’s holding cell.The king had been putting off this visit for hours—focusing on settling the troops in for the night. The shock of what they had seen hung heavily over the camp. No one knew what to say or do.   It was well after dark when the king finally went in to see his prisoner.

 

He was...just a _boy_. Too young to be a soldier. Too old to be considered a child. He sat huddled in the corner when Asgore stepped into the room.  Asgore had expected fear. He'd braced himself for trembling and tears from one so young.

Yet as the dying candle lit up the boy’s face he saw none of those things. The boy did not cower. Did not flinch away when the king—a veritable _giant_ in comparison—came to stand over him. The boy raised his chin, and puffed out his chest in what Asgore took to be defiance. The king regarded the boy, smiling faintly in spite of himself. 

Asgore had seen grown men—warriors and kings cower in his presence. Yet this boy exuded such boldness such incomparable tenacity—as though he could have moved mountains if given a solid place to stand. The king let out a soft chuckle and knelt down, a fatherly kind of admiration for the boy growing in him. The boy darkened like storm clouds at the sound of Asgore’s laughter. His dark brows knit up.

 

“Hello little warrior” Asgore said softly. The boy clenched his fists, and he glared. Asgore’s smile fell, realizing that the boy must have taken his gentleness for mockery.

It was the boy’s eyes Asgore noticed first. The eyes that he remembered so clearly. They were angular like the tips of spears.  A pale purple. The color of wild asters. And of something else Asgore did not yet have a name for. _He soon would._ The human held Asgore’s gaze with an icy defiance. As if there was nothing in the world he feared—least of all the king. When his voice finally came it was hard and sharp like the edge of a dagger.

 

“Hello _Devil_. What happens now?” The boy spat.  The venom of his voice sobered the king. “Will you kill me? Break me? Take my soul?” his words came out passionless, and Asgore felt a disturbing calm enter the room—like a gust of cold air. Yet there was no breeze.

 

“I will not harm you young one. You are safe.” the king sighed.

 

 “Safe…” the boy scoffed. He turned his face away from the monster, sniffing disdainfully.

 

“You must understand. It was never my intention to—“  Asgore trailed off. Should he try to reassure the boy of their intentions? Explain to him that they had really meant no harm? That their proximity to his village was little more than a tactical error? A mistake?

Or would that be _cruel_? This injured soul had lost everything. Everything but his _pride_. His village had thwarted its enemies—had sacrificed their lives so that the monsters could not take them for themselves and grow stronger. They’d had the last laugh in the end. Done something noble—something important. That was what the boy clung to. It was how he was still able to hold his head high. Even now.

Asgore could not bring himself to take away that pride. It was all the boy had left in the world.  He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t be the one to tell the boy that his friends and family died for _nothing_. That it was all a just a horrible, tragic _waste_.

 

“I am…truly sorry.” Was all Asgore could bring himself to say.  It was the boy’s turn to laugh. A cold, high, humorless sound.

 

“You take so many things. You think you can really  just take back what you did?” His laughter rotted away into ugly retches. “You can’t take anything from us now _Devil_! We-we’re already dead!” His voice quavered. He let out another mad laugh and got to his feet. “Do you hear me Devil!? You failed! Y-you can’t hurt us anymore!”

Something wet, hit Asgore’s cheek. The boy spat on him. Neither spoke for a moment. The only sound was the boy’s heaving. Then Asgore rose, took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the spittle from his cheek. The boy back up into the corner, the moment Asgore was on his feet. The human shook, fists raised in a sloppy fighting stance, as if he expected the king to rip him to pieces like a wild animal. It was the most emotion the boy had shown since his capture. The first and only display of weakness. Asgore gave the boy a long look. But said nothing. There was nothing to say. Nothing that could make things right. He turned and left the room without another word.

 

The troops took the boy with them when they left. No one really knew what else to do with him. They just knew they could not leave him there. The village was still warm—like a fresh corpse. The deaths came so suddenly that the land had yet to catch up. It was a transitory period. Somewhere between death and mourning.  No one wanted to linger any longer than necessary.

On the boys second night with them he escaped, running off into the night.  Whether he'd escaped by his own daring or if the guards had taken pity and freed him Asgore never knew. Nor did he care. The boy was a pale emotionless reminder of the horrors they'd seen. And the monsters were well aware of the anguish that ached behind his mask of bravura. They were as much a painful reminder to him as he was to them. When he escaped, no one looked for him. No one wanted to hurt him any more than he already was.

 

Asgore would later regret not trying harder to stop him. He was just a boy. Just a child trying to be brave, trying to be strong. He’d let the boy go. Too guilty to stop him. To accept responsibility. To try and help him. That was his blunder.   Another mistake to add to his veritable treasure trove of military failures. Asgore had sown dangerous seeds, caring not a button for where they grew. And years later, he would pay dearly for his mistake. 

 

Summer after summer died away and the war raged on, taking more lives, destroying more families with no end in sight. It was a bleak time to be alive. But they pressed on.

 

Word spread through his troops like wildfire. Whispers of a human warrior who had worked his way up through the ranks. A leader that had sliced through Gerson’s troops to the north leaving hundreds dead. A man who had dusted an entire garrison of monsters with the single minded tenacity of the devil himself. It was years before Asgore would face this man, and realize what his foolishness had created.

 

 They called the warrior Aster. Aster for the funny color of his eyes. For the flowers that were known for their vitality. Their stubborn ability to survive even in the harshest of environments. They called him Aster—for the color of his soul. The color of human **Perseverance**.

 

#############################################################################

 

Chara was eight years old when she fell. Eight years, three months and eleven days on this earth. So young, and she was already empty.  She was broken long before she came to mount Ebbot. Broken before she fell.  Broken before she even hit the ground.

 

Asgore remember the first time he’d seen her. He’d been in the garden, pruning a current bush when Asriel came running up huffing and puffing about how his friend had fallen down and hurt themselves. Asgore turned from his flowers expecting to see a froggit with a skinned knee or another of  Asriel’s usual playemates. He was not prepared for what he found. His mouth fell open, watering can slipping from his paws and clattering to the ground.

His son had brought home a human.  The human had an arm over Asriel’s shoulders he braced her up—helping her walk. Asriel like most had been born underground. He’d never seen a human before, never known the horrors they were capable of. He merely saw another child. A friend in need. Asgore, however—saw a ghost. The phantom of a hundred battles.

 

The human went rigid when the king scooped her up and brought her inside the house. She resisted his touch but showed no other signs of fear. She still shoved at his hands and hissed when he tended to her wounds but it seemed more out of annoyance than real panic. The human had come away from the fall with little more than a few cuts and scrapes. That was miraculous for a fall so high. The king assumed that the layers of residual magic from the barrier had slowed her fall. When swatting and pushing didn’t convince the king to stop touching her, Chara went still. She folded her arms and raised her chin to a proud angle.

 

The king faltered. The look she gave him was unnerving. Challenging almost. **He  knew that look.**  It was the look of someone who had experienced true horrors.  Mistrust. Coldness. Passionless calm. A mask of defiance. He’d seen that look only once before.  He forced himself to look away. They were the same. Both carried an apathy so great that could swallow up the world.  She was someone you couldn’t hurt. Someone beyond feeling. A haunted voice seemed to cry from the dust, finding its way into Asgore’s mind. A memory stirring beneath layers of time and dust. The king felt cold.

_‘Hello. What sort of Devil are you? How will you hurt me? How will you break me? How will you make me suffer? Do what you want. You can’t hurt me. I’m already dead.’_

 

Asgore worked silently focusing on the task before him, while Asriel darted around in a panic filling the air with worried chatter.

 

**_'Would she be all right? Had she broken anything? What was the red stuff coming out of her knees? Could she stay the night?'_ **

Soon his jabbering drew Toriel into the room. She took one look at the battered child and pounced, showering the girl in motherly concern. Asgore moved  out of the way, gratefully letting his wife take over the human’s medical needs.  He stood off to the side with Asriel, hovering awkwardly over the scene.

The human didn’t try to wiggle free when Toriel began bandaging her. She went limp and allowed the queen to do what she wanted. But the child’s attention lingered on Asgore. She watched him from the corners of her eyes.

She was just like Aster. Asgore didn't realize this until much later.But it was true. Something _terrible_ had happened to this child. Someone had stolen the light from her eyes. Someone had chased the shadows into her face. Someone had hung those bags beneath her eyes. Had broken her.

But she was alive. She was a survivor, just like Aster had been. She had determination. Give her a place to stand and she could move the earth. She was a _marvel_.  

 

As the days went on, Asgore regarded the fallen child with a kind of detached kindness. He kept his distance. And the child was all too happy to maintain that distance.  He made many attempts to help the child feel more comfortable with them. But he always seemed to do or say the wrong thing.

On her third day with them, Asgore went out and bought her a doll. It was a human doll made of porcelain and horse hair and lace. A rarity in the underground to be sure. He supposed someone had scavenged it from the dump at some point and fixed it up like new. When he gave it to the child she just sat on the floor and peered at it absently. Asgore waited for her to say or do something but she remained silent staring at the doll’s face. After a while Asgore cleared his throat.

 

“Little one…aren’t you going to play with your new friend?” He asked softly.

“I _am_ playing with her.” Came the human’s reply. She didn’t even lift her eyes as she spoke. Asgore shifted.

“Ah.”

Another stretch of silence. Asgore’s back was beginning to ache a bit from hunching over so much. He groped for something to say.

“So…Do you like her?”

“Her dress is green.” Chara mumbled. Asgore raised a brow.

“erm. Yes.”

“I like green.”

“Oh… good!” Asgore chuckled uncomfortably. The child’s eyes met his briefly before returning to her staring match with the doll. More silence.

 

“What are you going to name her?”

 

“Green.” Chara said again. Voice flat. She then got to her feet and skittered off to her room, leaving the king kneeling awkwardly in the Livingroom.  

 

One morning a few weeks later when Asgore got up for the day— He stripped off his bed shirt and went to toss it into the laundry bin. When he’d opened it he was met with a pair of large doe-like eyes staring up at him. He yelped and slammed it shut again without thinking.  Chara was huddled up inside of the bin.  The human had gathered up all her pillows and blankets and made a strange little nest for herself. The king blushed furiously and thanked his lucky stars that he hadn't been naked when he discovered her. He took several deep breaths, calming himself before he opened the bin back up and looked in.

 

"Hello Chara"

 

She blinked at him wordlessly. The king sucked in his cheeks.

 

"What...what are you doing in there little one? Hoping to give an old man a heart attack?" he forced a chuckle, it petered off pretty fast. Another staring match. “Are… you going to come out now?”  

She shook her head.

“Why not?”

She shrugged.

Asgore ran a hand over his tired face.

_Just let her have it… its not worth it…_

“If Tori comes in to collect the laundry you’ll have to find another place to play. Alright?”

The human blinked at him, then reached up and pulled the lid shut over her head. Asgore stared at the bin for a full minute before snapping himself out of it. All of the dirty clothes from the bin had been piled up on the bathroom floor next to the bin. He groaned inwardly before stooping to gather them up. He lifted up a pair of dirty pants and winced when he saw a porcelain face staring up from the pile. He took a deep breath picking up the doll. After a moment of thought he rapped his knuckles on the lid of the bin. No response.

“Chara...?” he knelt down. Nothing. He tried again.

 

“I’ve…I’ve got Greenie…” the bin jerked slightly. Asgore looked over the doll before holding it closer to the lid. “Do you want her? Or should I take her back to your room?”

The bin opened a crack and a tiny arm poked out to reach for the doll. A flutter of amusement came over the old king. He put the doll into her hand and watched it quickly retreat back into the bin.

 

Hiding in laundry bins, trunks and other small enclosed spaces became a regular occurrence after that. Chara would disappear into them for hours at a time. Coming out periodically to grab a toy before secreting herself back inside.  It made Toriel anxious. She seemed convinced that the child would suffocate one of these days, or fall asleep and be taken out with the garbage. Asgore was less worried about this. After what had happened that first time in the bathroom, he was extra vigilant about double checking all small hiding spaces in a room before doing anything else. Especially in the bathroom.

 

One night while everyone was asleep in bed Asriel came running into the king and queen’s bedroom in a panic.

 

"THEY’RE BITING HER! THEY’RE BITING HER!" the prince shouted jerking both the king and queen from slumber.

"Wha- who?" Asgore said, shaking the sleep from his mind to focus in on the flustered boy.

 

"The bed bugs! They're everywhere!" Asriel looked close to tears as he dragged his parents into his and Chara’s shared bedroom.  Chara herself was found hiding In their closet. Her arms and legs were dotted with tiny red sores. Asriel was positively scandalized.

"You told me bed bugs don't really bite!" Asriel accused, stomping his foot. "you said it was just a a'spression!"  Asgore attempted to soothe the boy while Toriel stripped the sheets off of chara's bed.

 

Ants. The bed was crawling with ants. It didn't take too long to realize the source. Chara had been hoarding food. Bits of pie, cookies a waffle, an entire package of uncooked bratwurst. She'd stuffed her pillow full of food. Toriel shook her head and laughed when she realized. The whole situation was absurd. However Asgore wasn't laughing. He was starting to become concerned. This wasn't normal behavior. After the ants were vacuumed up and the sheets replaced, Asgore tried to coax the girl out of her hiding place. She ignored him. He couldn't really blame her. Asriel was still crowing about bedbugs and waving his hands around as if they were under attack. Asgore sighed. It was much too early in the morning for this. He reached into the closet for the girl.

 

"It's alright now... They were just ants princess, no need to- AHH!” Asgore jumped drawing back.

 

“What is it! what’s happened?” Toriel came running over. Asgore blinked in consternation.

 

“She…she bit me. She actually _bit_ me…”

 

Toriel massaged her temples. “Oh honestly…” She shooed him out of the way and reached into the closet. Chara didn't resist. In fact she clung onto Toriel like a lifeline regarding Asgore with wide eyes. Tori was quick to assure Chara that she didn't need to hide food in her room. That there would always be food in the refrigerator and no, they would not forget to feed her. Not ever. Asgore just stood off to the side and watched, feeling strangely guilty. Even though he hadn't done anything wrong.

 

 

 

 

 

Asgore noticed early on the child avoided physical contact with him as much as possible.  She skirted around him when they passed in the halls, pressing herself close to the wall as he went by, eyes averted. When he entered the room she seemed to stiffen, a few times he noticed her jump at the sound of his voice.  It hurt. But Asgore tried not to let it bother him. He was the first fully grown monster she’d ever seen. He reminded himself that this was still all new to her—still frightening despite how aloof she acted.  Asgore assured himself that her nervousness would abate once she grew used to things.

Yet as time passed the king began to notice more and more. The child wrestled and played with Asriel. Accepted hugs and kisses—albeit reluctantly—from his the queen. She hugged onto Greatest Dog—captain of the royal guard—hanging off her back like a monkey as the monster loped off to make her rounds.  He often heard her voice through the walls, talking with Asriel in their room. She barely said two words to him on a good day.  He decided to face fact.  Asgore—himself seemed to be the only one she disliked. That stung more than he would have liked to admit. The king was at his wits end with the child. No matter what he did, she never seemed to warm up to him.

 

 

 

 It wasn’t until her first checkup with Dr. Sylph that Asgore finally understood.

The doctor and taken the king and queen aside to ask them  a few questions leaving Asriel and Chara to play alone in the lobby.

 

“How much do you know about Miss Charlotte’s life before you adopted her?” He asked.

 

“Not very much.” Toriel admitted. “She doesn’t talk much about her life before we found her. We’ve asked, but she doesn’t seem to want to talk about it.”

 

“When you first told her there was no way for her to return home. Did she cry and make a big fuss?” He asked. The king and queen exchanged glances. Tori spoke up.

 

“Well…no. Not _really_. She’s a fairly easy going child she doesn’t really cry to be honest.”

 

“Not _ever_?” The doctor’s eyes narrowed. Asgore shifted.

 

“My friend…what is all of this about?”

 

The doctor didn’t answer right away. He eyed the king and queen shrewdly.

“You say she hides herself often.” The doctor mused. “… And that she hides food for later even though she has never so much as skipped a meal before. Has the child ever... shown any _aversion_ to physical contact?”

Asgore felt Toriel take his hand and squeeze. He nodded wordlessly. The doctor removed his glasses. He ran a hand over his face, gaze drifting to the lobby where Asriel and Chara appeared to be building a tower with blocks. He grimaced before shutting his office door to give them more privacy.

 

Toriel cried. Asgore merely held her, listening numbly. Whatever resentment Asgore had harbored against the child. Whatever frustration he’d felt every time his attempts to reach out to her were ignored, disintegrated. The revelation gave way to shock. To _horror_. To grief.

 

 

Chara didn’t flinch at the sound of his voice, didn’t avoid his gaze because of disgust. She wasn’t afraid of him— afraid to let him touch her because he was a _monster_.

 

 It was because he was a _man_.

 

That was the first time. The moment when Asgore’s cheerless detachment from the child melted into something genuine. Into compassion. To think that it was horror that first drew his compassion. The possibility this child that had found her way into their lives had not fallen—as they had always assumed.

 

Perhaps she _jumped_.

 

After nearly a ten centuries of imprisonment, and Asgore was still making all the same mistakes.

Toriel had once called him a coward for his lack of action. For his propensity to hide from his problems, to pretend everything was fine when it wasn’t. And she was right of course.

He’d made this mistake before with that choice he made long ago. The choice to simply to let the Aster run away. The mistake of not trying to reach him. To help him.  Of feeling so relieved when he heard the child had escaped—because then at least he would not have to see him again, not have to live alongside the embodiment of his guilt.

In the end he was worse off for it. And as he watched that boy turned man orchestrate slaughter his people, as he worked with some sort of self perceived righteousness to seal the monsters away forever—Asgore was left to wonder what _might_ have been.

 

What would have happened if he’d gone after the boy? If he’d taken them in as his own. Taken responsibility for what had happened to him. Tried to make up for taking his family—for inadvertently destroying that tiny soul’s entire world.

 Could he _really_ have made a difference? Could taking responsibility, showing kindness really have reached the boy? Could it have changed the course of history? Could he have altered the fate of an entire people by _being_ the force of change in the life of one little boy?

Asgore could not have known. He never would know now. And the uncertainty is what haunted him.

 

But now…. Maybe this was a sign. The universe giving an old failure one last chance. A chance to make things right.

The course of history was forever marred by the choices of one broken child. An entire species of people driven to the brink of extinction. Sealed away to rot in a prison. The child had been special. Strong. They could take life’s heavy blows and come up swinging. They could do incredible things.

 

But if a single broken child could bring about so much suffering, if they could take away a people’s entire world—could not such a child also _heal_ it? Chara was a survivor. Just like _him_. Perhaps someday she could do great things as well. Perhaps she could be the driving force—the bridge that could finally close the gap between monsters and humanity. Perhaps she could save them.

Asgore was being given a second chance to make up for a past mistake. To take responsibility. A chance to make things better.

 A chance to choose **kindness**.

 

 

From then on the king put forth a special effort to draw closer to the child.  He told himself he was doing it because it was the right thing to do, but deep down, he knew he was only doing it to assuage some of his own feelings of guilt. Yet even so, he kept at it.

Asgore spoke softly, smiled often. Asked her about her day. She would answer politely, but the walls behind her eyes never lowered.

After a few months things settled into a comfortable routine. Chara liked to sit by the fireplace and stare at her doll most evenings after supper. Asgore had gotten into the habit of settling into his easy chair with his book. Of passing the evening with the child in a comfortable silence. After a while he began quietly recounting the day’s events to the child. He knew that politics and meetings of state were likely a dull topic for a young girl, but he felt the need to speak with her. To help her grow used to his voice, and more comfortable in his presence.  He needed to show her that he meant no harm. The child never spoke back, never even looked at him while he talked. She just sat there on the floor, fiddling with her doll as if he wasn’t there at all.  But to her credit, she was polite enough never too wandered away until the king had finished his stories.

One evening while Asgore was relating his day’s meetings, the human interrupted him.

 

“Dr. Gaster is from Hotland. Not from Waterfall” She whispered in a quiet raspy voice.

“Remember? You…you had a meeting with him about the pressurized chambers in the core. He said he had the specs at home. A-and…” she petered off when she noticed Asgore looking at her. She looked away, hurriedly pressing her face into her doll’s dress. Asgore blinked. He’d assumed she hadn’t been paying attention to the minutia of his stories.

“That’s right…Hotland...” he said softly. “I remember now. Thank you…” An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Asgore grew nervous, unsure of how to fill it.  He wracked his brain for something to say to her. Maybe he should try something more personal? Something upbeat.  He cleared his throat, setting his book aside to regard the child. She was still hiding her face from him.

 

“Did you…did you hear the joke about the broken pencil?” Asgore winced inwardly. Why had he settled on a joke?  The king was terrible with jokes. But Toriel always had Asriel rolling on the floor with hers. No matter how silly the joke, both mother and son laughed and bleated as if it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard. The human lifted her eyes, peeking up at him through her hair. She shook her head.

 

“No, never mind. It is irrelevant.” Asgore said quickly. The human’s nose wrinkled in confusion.  He winced waving a paw dismissively. 

 

“Wait—no, no that’s not how it’s supposed to go… its uh…’POINTLESS’ yes! That’s it. The joke is POINTLESS” Asgore rambled. The human stared. He was crashing and burning.

“Ah… you see? It’s…its funny because erm, pencils have points… and jokes also have points— _Different_ kinds of points— but—a-and a broken pencil does not. So the joke is…is…” Asgore pinched his temples, and shut his mouth. That was an absolute _disaster_. A tiny giggle met his ears and he froze. The human had lifted her face a little more. He could see a tiny smile pressed into the dolls dress.

 

“You’re really weird…” she whispered. The king grinned at her, in embarrassment.  A giggle. A genuine smile. That’s all it took. And Asgore found himself happily wrapped around her little finger.

 

 

 


	26. INTERLUDE 3 ASGORE pt 2: What the flowers heard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: I lied. This is going to be a three parter. Its too long. DX
> 
>  
> 
> @all the peoples: Yeah, I really love writing Asgore. He really doesn’t get enough attention. He’s kind of an integral part of this story though. Sooo I couldn’t really leave him out. XD
> 
>  
> 
> Posting this pretty quick. First draft. I'll come back and edit it later.  
> ###################################################################

_Chara…How come you never cry?_

 

 

**I don’t know how.**

 

_Really?_

 

**Is that bad?**

_No. It’s just kinda sad. I mean, I always feel better after I cry._

**oh.**

 

_So…how do you make yourself feel better when you’re sad?_

 

**How’s about you cry for both of us. Deal?**

 

Deal.

 

 

 

 

########################################################

 

 

Asgore shouted at Chara—he never shouted.

Chara cried—she never cried.

 

And yet they did.

 

It had only ever happened once before. And for whatever reason, both incidents seemed mutually exclusive.

  
  
Chara had been ten years old at the time. Asgore has gotten an angry phone call from her’s and Asriel's principal. Asgore’s blood ran cold when he heard about what happened. He canceled all meetings for the rest of the day, apologized to several people for leaving at the last minute and rushed over to the school.

 

Chara had _attacked_ someone. Another student. The boy was two years her senior and at least twice her size. Yet somehow Chara had tackled him to the ground. She pummeled his face with her fists screaming threats and profanities until the teachers finally managed to separate the two.

 

Asgore was stunned. That was impossible! Chara had never shown any signs of being violent before. She’d always been so soft spoken. Yet as he listened to the principal’s explanation, his belief wavered.   
  
It had happened after school let out and many parents who had come to pick up their children saw what happened. Chara’s attacks and threats had apparently been so intense that many parents had grown concerned. They’d complained to the principal, wanting some sort of reassurance that their children would indeed be safe attending school with a human.

 

That was the wrong thing to say. Toriel went into an angry tirade against the schoolboard, convinced that they were discriminating against her child. Asgore…was not so certain.

Of course, he’d be surprised when he heard of what Chara had done, but some secret part of him didn’t….doubt it. He had seen first hand how  violent normally ‘civilized’ humans  could be when they got in the right mindset.

 

Toriel argued with the principal for over an hour. But the verdict was ultimately returned when a weeping parent called in swearing that she heard the human tell the monster boy that she would ‘Dust his pansy ass’. It was decided that Chara had best continue her education _elsewhere_.

 

Chara was _expelled_.

 

 

  
  
Tori cried, still convinced that the school had overreacted. She fawned over Chara, asking her again and again why she would do such a thing.  Had the boy done something? Had someone put her up to it? However, Chara gave no explaination for her actions. She just stared emotionlessly at the wall the whole while they spoke. Asgore was beginning to grow frustrated. They were trying to help her case. Why was she refusing to even look at them? The longer she ignored them, the angrier Asgore got. Until eventually he'd lost it.

 

Asgore rarely yelled. Even before Chara had come to live when them. It simply wasn’t in his nature to be confrontational. He’d been loving and understanding of all of Chara’s special needs. He’d bent over backwards to accommodate her, to make her welcome. He had invited her into his home, into his _family_. And the child couldn’t even conjure up the decency to look at his wife, while she spoke.

 

Asgore Exploded. He yelled at her. Lectured her until he was blue in the face. He asked her what on earth she could possibly have been thinking. Asked her what was _wrong_ with her.  Toriel was scandalized by his outburst. Gaping at the king as though he’d grown a second head. Yet Chara said nothing. Just lifting her chin and avoiding his gaze. She looked almost bored with what he was saying. Disinterested.

 

 When the king’s anger finally dissipated, Chara rose to her feet. She shot Asgore a hard look before waking calmly off to her room. The slam of the door closing behind her was the only clue. The only outward sign that she'd been upset at all.

 

The moment Chara was gone Toriel shot her husband an equally chilly look and stormed off into the kitchen.

  
  


It was a quarter past 1 am when Asgore awoke. Asriel was standing at the foot of his bed, sobbing.  
  
  
Chara was gone.

 

 She'd taken off while everyone else was sleeping. She’d left without a word.  
Both mother and son flew into a panic, and Asgore had a hard time keeping them calm. He put on his coat and went out ot look for the child, telling Toriel and Asriel to stay home in case she came back.  


The city was asleep. All the buildings were closed and shuttered. He searched, knocking on doors, asking anyone he could find if they’d seen a human child go by that night. No one had.

He checked the playground. She wasn’t there. then the schoolyard? The grocery store? The resort? Greatest dog’s house?   _Nothing._ No one knew where she was. No one had so much as seen her in hours. Asgore’s panic intensified with every dead end. 

 

_I shouldn’t have shouted at her._

 

 

Asgore had  always been so careful about raising his voice in the past. He knew what it did to the child. He was well aware of her anxieties. But he’d been too angry.

 

No.

No anger wasn’t the right word.

 

The king had been _scared_.  


Most people had been supportive of his and toriel’s decision to keep Chara. But there were some—mostly the older ones, who still had an inkling of just how bad things were before the barrier—who thought it _unwise_. He’d always scoffed at these concerns. The child was anything but dangerous. One would simply have to look at the way she babied Asriel, or the careful way she fed the birds to realize that. Their concerns were ridiculous.

Asgore hadn’t wanted to believe them. He hadn’t wanted to be that kind of man. The kind who would condemn an entire species based on the misdeeds of _some_ of them. It was that sort of thinking that had led to the creation of the barrier. That sort of paranoia that had caused so much pain for so many people.

And yet. When Asgore heard about what had happened at school.

 

He had been scared.

 

 

Because if he was wrong, if Chara was as other humans had been—violent, vengeful, cruel—what would he do? What could he have done? Whatever the decision the end would be clear.

 

He’d _lose_ her.

 

 

“Dad wait!”

 

 

Asgore ran a hand over his face. He stopped in his tracks.

  
"Go home son."

 

 Asriel had followed him. The king turned to look at his child. He shook his head hard, sending messy tears flaying in all directions. Asgore let out a deep breath.

 

"Go…I need you to take care of your mother. I'll find her. Don't worry" he assured. Again Asriel shook his head.

 

  
"I can’t… I have to find her.” The boy whimpered. “It's all my fault..." with that the child broke, the sobs he'd been holding in exploded from him like a tidal wave. Asgore pinched his eyes shut, before shushing the boy gently.   
  
"No, no…tt's not your fault son, you had nothing to do with-"

  
  
"I TOLD HER NOT TO TELL ANYONE!" Asriel shouted stomping his foot. Asgore mouth froze. Whatever he’d been about to say got lost in his mouth. .  


  
"What…what are you _taking_ about?"  
  
More tears. Asgore sat down on the pavement, and listened as Asriel told his tale. The missing pieces of the puzzle were finally falling into place.  
  
Astigmatism. _Stiggy_. The boy she'd attacked—He'd been picking on Asriel. Apparently he’d been tormenting the prince  for well over a month now. Shoving him in the halls, calling him crybaby- among other things- shoving his school books from his hands. Chara was a year younger than asriel. So she didn’t share any classes with Asriel. She hadn’t known. And Asriel hadn't told her. He hadn't told _anyone_. He'd been embarrassed, ashamed to let his family know what had been happening.  
  
That afternoon, Asriel had been waiting in the schoolyard for Chara so that they could walk home together. Like they did every day. Stiggy noticed him. Noticed that he was _alone_. Chara had turned the corner in time to see the boy shove Asriel up against the wall.  
  
And that was it. The human had taken off in a run, reeling back and beaming the boy right in the face with her schoolbag, sending books and papers, flying in all directions. The second the dazed boy let go of asriel Chara threw her weight into him—knocked him to the ground before climbing up on his chest. She then proceeded to pummel him.  
  
Asgore listened numbly to the story. Bile rising in the back of throat.  
  
"Asriel... What exactly did Chara say to the boy?" The king asked. Asriel flushed ducking his head.  


 "Upset words. Swears—I think? I uh, didn’t know what most of em meant."

 

Asgore waved this off.  
  
"The parts that weren't swears. What were they? Please son, I need you to remember. Its very very important." He patted the boy's back. Asriel huffed Welty trying to remember.

  
  
"She said...'you don't touch him. You don't ever touch him…' I-I remember that part. She said it a lot."  
  
Asgore was silent staring at the boy. Asriel wrung his hands.  
  
"She didn't mean to hurt hum so bad. Really. She told me so." Asriel sniffed. "She said that she remembered hitting him with her bag and knocking him down. But after that, she said something funny. I don’t understand what it means." Asriel frowned.  "She said that she didn’t remember hitting him. She says she started ‘seeing red’. Then the next thing she knew the teacher was pulling her off of Stiggy. She didn't mean it!  She says its cuz she's stupid and bad,  but she's NOT! She’s not!"

 

Asriel started crying again, big blubbery tears rolling down his cheeks Asgore shut his eyes. Ah. Something that finally— _finally_ made sense. The king ached.

 

 

"Thank you for telling me son." Asgore said. "That was very brave. Now please…go home.” Asriel obeyed.  
  
  
The king scoured the city, he’d made it halfway through waterfall with no success. He let out a gasp when  spied something red floating down the stream. He fished it out, biting back a stab of panic. It was one of Chara’s little red shoes.

 

Asgore ran. He searched tunnel after tunnel shouting her name until his voice grew hoarse.

 

Chara had hidden herself. She was good at hiding. The child had found a high shelf of rock in the wishing room, obscured from view. Asgore was in such a frantic hurry he likely would have run right on through and missed her entirely.

_But then he heard the flowers._

  
Echo flowers repeat the last phrase they heard spoken aloud. They repeat it again and again until a new phrase takes its place.  
  
A familiar voice. A hoarse emotionless whisper. A chorus of voices surrounded the king, hissing from flower to flower.  Asgore clapped his hands over his ears, sinking to his knees listening to his daughters voice repeated again and again all around him. He wept.

  
**_“'I wish I'd never been born…”_**  
  
  
A rock fell. Asgore’s head came up.

 

“Chara?” he pulled himself to his feet, moving over to where he’d heard the noise. It took a few moments before he finally spotted her. On a shelf a good six feet above his head. She was curled up, knees drawn up under her chin, face hidden in her dress.  Asgore tried to reach for her, but the opening in the rock was far too small for him to maneuver his very deep into. He kept at it.

“Chara!” he called out to her. The girl’s shoulders jumped. Her face raised, wide eyes peering at him through a veil of messy hair. Her mouth came open, and she stared. One look said it all. She hadn’t expected him to come looking for her. The king began pulling rocks away, trying to widen the hole. A rock rolled down and smacked him on the head and he drew back,clutching his head and swearing. He remained hunched like that for a moment, letting out a choked noise. shoulders shaking.  When he finally looked back up, the child had moved closer to the opening, peering down with a look of concern.

Asgore let out a dry sob. Before slowly raising his arms again. “Princess…I’m so sorry…” he whispered.

  
Chara leapt at him.

Throwing herself into his waiting arms. The king caught her up and  and pulled her into his chest. He buried his face into her hair, sobbing out his relief. He was _holding_ her. She clung to him. Almost desperately. As if she was afraid he would turn into smoke and slip through her fingers if she didn’t hold on tight. And for the first time since she’d walked into his life—Asgore heard the child cry.  

  
"Don’t you ever _ever_ run away again. D-do you hear me young lady?" Asgore whispered. He said it again and again and again. He stopped and said no more when the child spoke.  
  
The child said Asgore's name. His _favorite_ name.  
  
The sea of glowing flowers heard something new that night. The words carried on, and on repeated from flower to flower until they filled the entire room.  
And soon, that hiss—that emotionless whisper 'I wish I was never born’ faded away, replaced with something new. Something _different_.  
  
**_“I love you daddy."_**  



	27. INTERLUDE 3 ASGORE pt 3: Whats Left of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> @SigHappy: Glad you liked my unedited drabbles. I was worried people would be annoyed with the lack of polish. I really wanted this to be done. Hehe, eh…
> 
>  
> 
> @ Malik_likeswaffles: so much venom. Haha. 
> 
> @ ebonymidnight: don’t die.
> 
> @ Barewheels: People don’t start out as homicidal genocidey-monsters. I guess. Hopefully this doesn’t seem too phoned in. 
> 
> And yeah, I always wondered why frisk wasn’t more upset about the whole murder-times thing. Saying ‘I was just kiddings!’ after trying (or succeeding) to kill someone really isn’t much of an excuse.

Interlude 3 part 3: What’s Left of Us

 

 

 

The king did not sleep that night. He spent hours in his library pacing. He'd attempted to clean up a little. Righting the fallen shelves, replacing books. He'd begun sweeping up the broken remnants of his desk but never got around to actually finishing. The room looked and felt to be in a state of carefully controlled madness. The stark contrast between carefully alphabetized shelves and the broken furniture, the mad scratches on the wall-- was eerie. When daylight found him he was slumped in his chair. Eyes red-rimmed. His crown had fallen off into his lap.

 

Nothing made sense anymore.

 

Asgore held Chara when she died. He’d been there over thirty years ago. He’d watched, helpless as her soul left that pain wracked body. The king had been so afraid—and he was never afraid.  There was nothing he could do, but hold her close, begging her to stay with them. To stay determined. The child slipped through his fingers. Then she was gone.

 

And now? After seeing her again, after so many years. After everything he’d said and done—

After every mistake he had made—the king was afraid.

  
Not because he thought she might die.

 

 But because he thought she might _live_.

 

 

The large double doors of the library opened and shut. There was a shuffling noise of feet on carpet. The king closed his tired eyes.  
  
"Thank you for coming old friend" Asgore sighed. The visitor cast a glance around the destroyed room, before making their way over to where the king sat.  
  
"You look like hell." Gerson grumbled. He set his cane aside. "What happened?"  
  
The king did not reply for a long moment. then he reached into a Manella envelope and handed a printed sheet of paper to his companion.The old general looked it over. The lines on his face grew deeper—more drained as though he had just aged one hundred years.  
  
It was a copy of a photograph featuring a young girl in a yellow dress with sunflowers printed on it. She wore a candid smile as if the photo had been quickly snapped mid laugh. Her hair was down up in a messy braid, locks catching the light and shining.  
  
Gerson's eyes slid to the king. Asgore stared hard at the wall hands gripping the knees of his pants. The old general patted the king's hand.  
  
"She was such a pretty girl when she smiled. Wasn't she?" The general sighed. "But then, you gave her a lot to smile about old friend."

  
  
Asgore's grip on his knees tightened.  
  
"You see it?" He hissed through his teeth. "You see it!?"

  
  
"See what sire..?" Gerson drew in his chin. Asgore cradled his face in his hands.

  
  
"You have to tell me... Who is that?"

  
  
Gerson lowered the picture, concern coloring his aged face.

  
  
"It is your daughter sire." He put a hand on Asgore's hunched shoulder "I understand that these last few months have been difficult especially after what happened with-"  
  
Asgore's head jerked up, grabbing the old turtle’s hands. His eye like a madman.

"you know her? Are you sure? Are you absolutely _positive_?"

  
Gerson took in the king’s haggard appearance, eyes thinning.

 

“My friend… I knew her. Of course I recognize her.” He said slowly. Asgore took a ragged breath. Laying his head back.

 "Then I haven't lost my mind..."

 

The Turtle eyed him.  
  
  
"Asgore—What's happened to you?" He gruffed. "Did someone break in again?”  
  
The king waved this off silently. Before finally turned to face him. He touched the picture.  
  
"This isn't my daughter" Asgore stated.  "This photo was taken three years ago. Alphys found it for me. She got it off of the uh—" he gestured vaguely "social medias..."Asgore took out the embassy’s registry flipping to yesterday’s page. "According to this... That is a human called Charlotte Fox. She is nineteen years old, and attends the university in north Ebbot."  
  
Gerson frowned at the photograph giving it a more critical examination.

“You say…you say she lives locally?” Gerson mused, paying the king a sideways glance. He grunted dismissively. “A relative then.”  
  
"I do not think so. She…she came to _see_ me yesterday." Asgore said. _The look she'd given him after she'd cut him. That voice. It was unmistakable_

 

"if it was just a coincidence then why would she seek me out? Why sneak in? None of the humans know of her connection to me." Asgore pinched his temples, letting out a humorless laugh. “And even if they did learn of her… As far as these people are concerned, I am a human killer. Who else would dare breaking into my private study just to meet me? Who else would risk my anger?”

 

“I can think of one who would. Or have you forgotten?” The turtle scoffed blackly. The king shook his head.

 

“They would not send someone so inexperienced. Not after last time.” The king sighed. “It cannot just be an odd coincidence. Too many things do not make sense.”

 

 

  
  
"Sire. You’re not well. You need some sleep.” The turtle sighed. Soothing was an odd color on the wizened old general. But he did his best. “Chara died thirty years ago.  It's simply not possible-"  
  
"Yes. That's what I thought." Asgore grunted. “But then— this wouldn’t be the first time an old acquaintance has risen from the dust. After all that’s been happening, we may need to rethink our views of what is and is not possible.” The turtle pinched his temples, waving a knarled hand.

 

“That’s different and you know It.” the general wheezed. “You can’t possibly think that—Asgore, we _buried_ her.” The king flinched at this.

  
  
  
“A few months ago, before Frisk…passed—She told me some things about what happened that night the barrier fell.”  
  
Gerson’s head came up at this and he went silent. No one knew how frisk had managed to bring down the barrier. The whole affair had been one unanswered question after another.  The king scratched his head wearily.

  
“We had a private meeting. During which I asked her point blank,  how she managed to bring the barrier down. She told me…. She told me that she _didn't_.” Asgore swallowed. " _Asriel_ did..." Gerson stared.  
  
  
  
  
"But... Prince asriel is-"  
  
"Dead. Yes I know, however." Asgore glanced at the old general. "You are aware of the...of the _unique_ circumstances surrounding my son’s death." Asgore massaged his temples. "I wouldn't have come to you about this if I didn't have to. However you are the oldest of us... If anyone could begin to explain this…to understand... It would be _you_."  
  
Gerson’s body grew stiff, as if someone had dumped a bucket of water over his head. He didn't speak for a long moment.  
  
"You…you have to understand sire... I have never seen such a thing accomplished myself. However... I did _know_ of one who had..." The turtle grunted. “There are reasons— moral implications aside— that such a thing is rarely attempted. To absorb a human soul is a frightful thing. Especially if the soul was stolen.” The old general shuddered.

 

“To steal a soul—It brings great power yes... But also great _suffering_. For their emotions their _pain_ becomes yours to carry with you. They may hurt you, fight you, and drive you mad, destroy from the inside out to avoid being taken. In most cases the bond is never completely formed until the human consciousness... Until it is _squashed_ down and absorbed completely.”  


Asgore let out a shuddering noise—something akin to a sob, but dryer.

  
"N-no…Asriel—he wouldn’t— Oh my…”  
  
The turtle raised a hand, to stop the king’s horror from taking root any further.  
  
"It is not always so! That is just what happens when the bond is _unwilling_..." he explained. Asgore shook his head hard.  
  
"They would not have hurt each other… They loved each other—they were inseparable. When it happened. When she... Her soul slipped right through my fingers... And went straight to _him_.” Asgore whispered.  “And Asriel was already coming up to greet her like—like they'd been in it together from the start. Like they always knew..."  
  
"Perhaps they did.." Gerson sighed. "Perhaps they did"  
Both went silent, staring at the crackling hearth. Gerson was the first to speak again.

"Sire…I don't know exactly what happens when a soul is given willingly. I've never even heard of such a thing. However... Given the nature of souls, I can make a good guess"  
  
  
“Bonding two souls together. It's a bit like taking two boards of wood and using a binding agent to combine them.  If done properly, the place where the two boards meet— the bond- becomes the strongest part of the board. And from then on, you can never quite separate them again. Not _completely_ anyway. Sure, you can break the board along the bond but it will never be a 'clean break.' they will never be the same two separate entities they began as. They will leave _traces_ …. pieces of each other inside of one another."

 

The king closed his eyes, letting the air slowly out of his lungs.  
  
So. That's how Asriel did it.  
  
Monster souls do not have the  necessary vitality- the _power_ to survive after death. Once their magic dies and their bodies crumble, they too begin to break. That was the nature of their existence.  For Asriel— for _any_ monster to exist so many years after their demise is _impossible_ laughable even. But then... In the end— Asriel wasn't _just_ a monster anymore. was he?  
  
Monsters were made of magic, hope and love. But they were fragile. Fleeting. Hope is a powerful thing, but one it is broken—it is gone.

  
Human souls were powerful. They live on long after death. Indefinitely—if the stories were to be believed. That perhaps was why the idea of having their souls taken away was considered by humans to be a fate worse than death. Such a prospect either enslaved them or stole their gift of vitality. Their ability to linger forever. In that way, perhaps to a human, to lose ones soul is the only truth and final death.  
  
Asgore shuddered again.  
  
Magic love and hope.  
  
Vitality, strength, adaptability.  
  
The crossroads between what it meant to be one of _'them'_ and one of _'us'_.  
  
Together in harmony. Without contention. Without one seeking to control or dominate the other. A balance. That was the closest thing to perfection— to _divinity_ , that any mortal creature could attain.  
  
Asriel died. Yet his consciousness lived on. _Incomplete_. A mere facsimile of his former self. But _alive_.  
  
Asgore smiled bitterly. That must have been it. That must have been Chara’s last gift to him. Her final bid to protect him.  
  
If Asriel existed. If he was matter, real, living- even if it was _incomplete_. Was it really so farfetched that _Chara_ \- the being between them with **determination** \- with the inherent power to endure- still existed in this world? That her incomplete and injured soul—somehow _supplemented_ by Asriel's magic could have retained the ability to interact with this world?  
  
The thought left Asgore breathless. He had to know. To see for himself. To learn if she really had returned to him. And if she had... did that mean there was some glimmer of  hope for Asriel's soul as well?

 

Finally Gerson spoke, shaking himself tiredly.

 

“Well then. We all know whats to be done now? Don’t we?” Gerson grunted getting to his feet. “Fetch the little bugger and see if it really is your girl. Only way we’ll know for sure.”

Asgore cringed.

 

“She may not wish to see me again.” Asgore burried his face in his hands. His shoulders shook.

Asgore had disgraced Chara’s memory. He had slaughtered her people—children no different than she had been. He had been merciless. And when she came to him—sought him out in this strange new world…

The king had done it again. He had lost himself to _rage_. Destroyed his library—and perhaps what little trust in him she may have retained inspite of his sins.  The king glanced around the destroyed room and winced. What if one of the bookcases he'd so carelessly toppled had landed on _her_? What if he had _crushed_ her? She had come, looking for her father. Looking for the kind man—the good person he once was.

 

And he’d nearly _killed_ her. Snuffed out her life like so many others of her kind. It was _sickening_.

 

She had been so afraid.

And Asgore was the father of that fear.

 

Asgore felt a gently hand touch his shoulder. He took several deep breaths to calm himself. He was a king. It would not do to let anyone—even his friend see him cry.

 

“Gerson…I have made a terrible, terrible mistake…” he whispered. The old turtle let out a breath.

 

_“Tell me everything.”_

 

 

###############################################################################3

 

Finally this three parter is all done! _Finito_!  Now I finally get to start moving the plot forwards again. No more backtracking for awhile. Woooot!

 

 


	28. INTERLUDE 4: The Interrogation (part 1 of 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> Alright moving on to another interlude in sans’ POV. This one will be a two parter since its too long. 
> 
> @ Malik_likeswaffles: Soooo much sass. XD I love you. <3
> 
> @ Tangibility: Thanks bro! I was worried that last chapter would feel too phoned in or like an info dump. Glad you enjoyed it. 
> 
> @ Punny+Fan: haha glad you’re enjoying yourself. More to come soon. 
> 
> @ eJ121: Hey, welcome aboard the feels train. It sucks—you’re gonna love it. ;)

AN: 

**So kiddies, A bunch of people have been flip flopping with a lot of these characters between either having sympathy for their situations and being annoyed with their choices. Its funny. So here’s a simple multiple choice test question to set a few things straight. Are ya ready?**

**Question # 1.**

**In the story Sympathy for The Devil Which character is the ‘devil’ we are supposed to be feeling Sympathy for?**

**A) Asgore: (aka Papa murder-pants with a heart of gold. –has a soft spot for pie and flowers—**

**B) Sans: (Punny guy who sometimes plays racquetball with Charlotte’s soul. –may or may not have murdered Frisk—**

**C) Aster: (the wittlest orphan who dusted thousands of monsters and locked up the rest in an underground prison. –likes cherries jubilee, and is likely views himself as a tragic hero rather than a genocidal villain—)**

**D) Chara: (OTHER wittlest orphan, who loves her friends and family so much, and has good in her somewhere, and is learning that everyone has some good in them deep down—and if you don’t believe her, she’ll cut you open and prove it—**

**E) Chara’s biological father (probably drunk, and unemployed or somethin like that. Economy’s hard on everyone.)**

**F) Charlotte: (Has evil dead people in her, but is too stupid to ever realize she’s being manipulated. –steals books. Jay-walks too apparently—**

**G) Papyrus: (Burns perfectly good spaghetti)**

**@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@2**

**The answer is clearly G: Papyrus. He’s the truly devilish one in this story.  Silly readers.**

**(Seriously, why does anyone read half the dumb stuff I pull? XD  )**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

INTERLUDE 4: The interrogation (pt 1)

 

 

 

 

The first couple of days Sans half expected the police to kick the frigging door down and drag him off. After all, he’d abducted a young woman, taken her to an undisclosed location and attempted to kill her. But no one came to arrest him.

Sans had been a nervous wreck when he left the human’s apartment. She claimed to have hurt the king. A terrifying thought. In the previous timelines Sans had always managed to stop Chara before she reached the king. So he had no idea what to expect if she actually managed to get close to him this time around. Knowing Chara, her handiwork could have entailed anything from a papercut to beating him within an inch of his life. But when he saw Asgore at work the next day, the King appeared completely unharmed. He looked rattled and fatigued, but other than that no worse for wear. And for whatever reason, he hadn’t mentioned his encounter with Chara to anyone at work. There was no frantic search, no embassy-wide manhunt—he just went on with his business as if it hadn’t happened.  Thanks to Sans, Charlotte had literally disappeared without a trace. Maybe the king had chalked up the whole ordeal to nerves or a bad dream. Sans hoped so.

As far as he knew, the kid hadn’t moved or made herself more difficult to reach after the whole ordeal. If the king wanted to find the little demon—Sans was sure it wouldn’t be a difficult hunt.  But no. Asgore didn’t even appear to be looking for her. No news popped up about the king finding his long lost child—so maybe there was reason for hope. Maybe the human really was out of their lives for good this time.

 

Days turned into weeks without incident. And slowly, Sans let himself relax in the knowledge that the human really had left them alone for good. If she stayed away, then she couldn’t hurt them, and Sans wouldn’t have to hurt her.

 

As much as he hated Chara—as much as he wanted to see her burning in hell; the idea of hurting the other one—the green one—left a bad taste in his mouth.  So he waited. He hoped, and prayed—that he’d never see the human again. Papyrus was still a cheerless mess. He’d jump every time his phone buzzed, only to sag upon checking it—so Sans knew that Charlotte must not have contacted him.  It was disheartening to see the otherwise cheerful skeleton so bereaved, but Sans convinced himself It was for the best. At least he was safe. Sooner or later Papyrus would forget about the human and bounce back to his normal perky self. It was only a matter of time.

About half  an hour before tea, Sans heard a knock at the front door, and Doggie’s excited yipping. Moments later he heard Papyrus bound up the stairs and bang excitedly on Sans’ bedroom door. The smaller skeleton snorted setting his book aside.

 

“Who’s there?” he rumbled pleasantly. The door swung open, banging slightly against the wall.

 

 

“SANS! SANS! THEY’RE HERE!” Papyrus cried poking his head into the doorway. His nasal bones wrinkled up. “YOU’RE WEARING THAT..?”

Sans snorted, sitting up to regard his brother. It was the first time in weeks he’d seen Papyrus so excited. It was definitely a step in the right direction.

“who’s here bro?” Sans mused. Papyrus ignored him with a scoff. He marched into the room and began digging through Sans’ closet. The taller skeleton let out an annoyed huff when he realized there were more clothes piled on the floor than hanging up in the closet. Sans stretched on got up, meandering over to stand behind his brother.

 

“ _Sweater_ you lookin for bro?” Sans snorted.

 

“WHERE DO YOU KEEP YOUR COOL CLOTHES BROTHER?!” Papyrus groaned. Sans’ grin widened, as he came to stand in the doorway.

 

“Dunno bro. Thought about makin a cardboard belt once. But I figured it wouldda been a _waist_ of paper.” Sans was answered by a shirt being tossed roughly into his face. Papyrus had found out Sans’ only black button up shirt hanging in the closet (It was about the only thing on a hanger) Sans held the shirt up, blinking blankly at it. It was ironed, with a high starch collar, still new looking and wrinkle free. The sight of it almost made him hurt. Of course it felt new.

  _He’d only had to wear it once._

Papyrus snapped his fingers in Sans face.

“LAZYBONES! GET DRESSED! THE HUMAN IS WAITING!” Papyrus snapped. Sans’ chest clenched, and he turned slowly to frown at his brother. He couldn’t breathe.  

“H-human?”

Papyrus groaned, waving a frantic hand in Sans’ direction.

“HOPELESS! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? YOU _CAN’T_ GO OUT ON A DATE IN THAT DIRTY HOODIE!”

“Date…?”

Papyrus bobbed around him eagerly. When Sans made no move to take off his hoodie Papyrus swooped in and started stripping his brother’s clothing off himself. Sans went limp and let him do this. There really wasn’t any stopping Paps once he got like this. At any rate he was too caught up by the shock of it to muster the energy to really resist.

“SKIN A SKELLY!” Papyrus chirped trying to pull Sans’ shirt up over his head. Sans raised his arms and let papyrus strip his shirt off.

 

“What date bro?” Sans pressed. Papyrus let out an exasperated moan.

 

“SAAAANS!? HOW COULD YOU FORGET?! YOU’RE TAKING THE TINY GREEN HUMAN OUT TO LUNCH TODAY!” Papyrus forced the high-starch shirt on and began buttoning up the front nimbly. Sans froze.

_Tiny green human?_

_Green…_

The memory of Charlotte’s bright emerald soul came to mind. The lights left sans’ eyes.

_No…_

_Nonononononono—had she lost her mind? She wasn’t supposed to come back! Ever!_ _He’d warned her. Threatened her._

Hell. No wonder papyrus was so happy. His friend came back and had apparently buried the hatchet with Sans.

_This was bad. Oh…this was so bad…_

_He couldn’t do this. Not again._

Once Sans was dressed, Papyrus tossed him over his shoulder and marched off towards the living room while Sans groped silently for a game plan.

_Play along. Get her alone. Remind her of what would happen if she didn’t keep her distance. Yes…good…_

Papyrus grabbed Sans under the armpits and plopped him down in the doorway to the livingroom.

A small human lounged on the sofa, watching the procession with tired half-massed eyes.

Sans stared.

_Tiny green human._

_Green._

_Oh._

_Green_ hair.

A wave of relief washed over the smaller skeleton and he let out the breath he’d been holding.

_Oh thank fuck…_

_It was just **Pipsqueak.** _

_It’s not Chara. It’s not Chara_. That alone was enough to chase the tension from Sans’ panicking soul.

Daphne looked like she’d just come back from an all-nighter at work. She wore a puffy, oversized coat and beanie over a set of dirty, dark blue scrubs. She looked less ready for a hot date than Sans had before Papyrus got his hands on him. The tension left Sans’ shoulders.

Papyrus glanced between them eagerly, seeming to vibrate with glee.

“I’LL LEAVE YOU TO IT THEN!” the tall skeleton clapped his hands together before charging off into his room. Once he was gone, Sans glanced back down at the tiny woman. Relief giving way to bemusement.  He took a step closer to the human cocking his head questioningly. Daphne was the first to break the silence.

 

“Hey big guy.”

 

“Pipsqueak.” He returned with a slight nod.

“Don’t you look dapper?” The human grunted, looking him up and down. Sans snorted slipping his hands into his pockets.

“Thanks kiddie. Normally I don’t wear fancy stuff but I was _suede_ into it.” He winked.

“Ya screwed up there big guy.” She pointed lazily at his feet. “One of those shoes isn’t _right_.”

Sans’ eyes dropped briefly to his shoes. Then they widened in realization. They flashed up to the human’s face. She paid him a smug look.

_Oh._

_Oh damn…_

 

Sans had _wanted_ to like this one. He really had. Daphne was one of the few humans he’d met who spoke to him like he was a _person_ , and not some wild animal you had to toe the line around or they’d leap at you. She hadn’t oozed fear and suppressed aggression the way her boss had. Nor had she bullshitted politeness like other humans did to keep on his good side.  In fact she’d almost made him feel _embarrassed_ about the way he postured to the doctor. – _Almost_.

But what was she _doing_ here?  Her creepy little friend hadn’t been around for over two weeks.  Why would she show up on his doorstep now of all times? It made no sense. The human seemed tired, bored really, as she smirked up at him.

 

“Really pipsqueak? A joke about shoes? I really don’t know what you’re on _aboot_.” Sans finally said with a chuckle. He regarded her, forcing a casual air. “So… why’d ya tell my bro that I was buyin ya lunch?”

 

“Because you are.” Daphne grunted. Sans couldn’t help but chuckle at this. He stooped lower so that they were more eyelevel and cocked an amused brow.

“Oh?”

“Yep. I wouldn’t say no to a drink either. Might be a good idea.” Daphne grunted getting to her feet. Her dull blue eyes met his. “You an’ me got a lot to talk about. y’know?”

 _Oop. There it was._ Suddenly the random visit made sense. Sans felt his soul sag tiredly. He should have known this was coming.  But truth be told he’d expected the _doctor_.

“Heh. Guess we do huh?” Sans straightened and grabbed his coat. He shrugged it on and headed for the door. “I know a place. C’mon”

“Hey. Big guy.”Sans paused, glancing behind him. The tiny human payed him a sardonic look. “Don’t you know how to treat a lady?” She raised her arm at the elbow and nudged his wrist. “Get your ass over here and take my arm.”

Sans mirrored her posture, arm out, bent at the elbow. The human’s tiny arms wrapped around it. She nodded.

“There ya go. Like a right, friggin gentleman.” Daphne grunted, patting his arm. “Lead the way.”

 

Sans eyed her, before shaking his head and heading out into the streets.

With the exception of his brother, and maybe Undyne—nobody ever had the cheek boss Sans around like that.  Least of all humans. 90% of the humans he met acted as though they thought he might snap them in two if they didn’t toe the friggin line. True he never discouraged this assumption— it made him particularly useful to have around as a bodyguard when human officials visited the embassy and the constant threats of violence from hate groups got particularly intense. They had fewer issues when he was around. People were way less likely to pull something if they knew he was nearby, grinning them down.

So why did this ballsey little pipsqueak seem to think she could lead him around by the nose? He could tell from her behavior that she wasn’t the aggressive type. Hell, when they’d first met he’d barely noticed her at all she was so calm and unthreatening.  Yet despite her relaxed demeanor, it seemed like every other word out of her mouth to him was some kind of _challenge_.  A test to see how much ribbing (heh) he would take, before retaliating.

And for whatever reason—Sans found he liked her _better_ for it.

That was _bad_. The human hadn’t come all this way to make friends. Sans knew that better than anyone. He’d pulled this same song and dance with Frisk the first time they’d met his bro. Get them alone. Get them comfortable. All the while probing them for information. Feeling out their motives, and leaving them with a well-crafted ultimatum to walk that fuckin’ line if they know whats good for them. Sans was a pro at this kinda meeting.

 

The human was here because he’d threatened the kid. And while Sans didn’t know how much of the situation Charlotte had confided in her—he could recognize this exchange for what it was.  This was little more than an interrogation.  with some veiled threats thrown in there for good measure.

Sans steeled himself glancing down at the human. This wasn’t his first rodeo. And He wasn’t going to let himself get played.

It was still fairly early in the evening and monster were still milling about in the streets, going about their business. Several stopped to stare at the human, their eyes lingering on the place where her arms linked around his. A few of them caught Sans’ eyes and smiled. Daphne herself, didn’t appear to be bothered by the stares, she just kept walking, eyes forwards as if the attention was normal. However Sans noticed that her grip on his arm didn’t relax the entire walk and a few times when they passed other monsters on the street too close, he could feel her tiny fingernails digging into his radius.

 

“I like your bro.” Daphne said out of the blue. “He seems like a really nice guy.”

Sans blinked. Despite the flat voice she sounded sincere. He shook his head slowly, letting out a small chuckle. Two minutes in and she’d already zeroed in on his favorite subject. _Not bad._

“Heh. Yeah. My bros pretty great huh?”

“mm. When I told him you owed me dinner he all happy. Gave me this whole speech about how ‘Lazybones is so great’ despite the fact that he ‘leaves his socks everywhere and have no sense of fashion’.” Daphne smirked. “ _Lazybones—ha_. That’s cute. He seems to thinks pretty big of you.”

Sans shrugged, grinning in spite of himself.

“Eh. Its not that weird. Didn’t you have nicknames for your brothers?”

“Yeah. ‘moron’.” Daphne retorted. She squinted at the monster closing one eye. “You must be the older brother.”

“Yep. Paps is the babybones. I’m pretty sure I’m at least an hour older though.” Sans shrugged. Daphne cocked a brow.

“Hold up. you two are _twins_?”

 

“Uh, yeah?” Sans mirrored her bemused look.  “What’s wrong with that?” The human shrugged.

 

“Nothin. Its just surprising. You two look nothin alike.”

 

“Whats looks got to do with it?” Sans asked. Daphne squinted, closing one eye.

 

“Skeletons… Right. I’m guessing being twins means somethin’ different to monsters, am I right?” Daphne mused. Sans scratched his chin.

“Depends. What does it mean for humans to be twins?” he returned.

“Hell, I dunno. Its like… they start out as one egg and then split off into two people in the womb. Something like that.” Daphne said.

“Thas pretty close. Cept monster twins start out as one _soul_.” Sans shrugged. Daphne pulled a face.

“whats that face for? Its not that weird.” Sans chuckled.

“You’re making that up.” Daphne retorted. Sans grin grew wider.

   “Heh. You do realize monsters don’t exactly have” he gestured vaugly. “DNA and organs and such right? We’re literally made of magic.” The human looked doubtful and Sans found himself laughing. It was like giving the sex talk to a grown woman. In fact that was exactly what it was.

“Alright. Lets see if I can make this a little simpler for ya.” Sans rumbled. “A baby monsters’ soul is made of combined pieces of its parents souls—yeah? That and magic, love, hope and all that good stuff. Monster twins happen when one soul breaks off into two in the womb and then develop into two separate monsters with their own unique personalities and characteristics. Just like normal siblings. Do ya follow?” The human hadn’t stop squinting, but she seemed to more accepting of this explanation than before. She smirked faintly and hummed.

 

“Hope love and soul magic huh? Wow.” Daphne deadpanned. “ ** _My_** _parents had sex.”_

 

 

Several monsters called out Sans’ name when he stepped into New Grillby’s. A few stared at the human, but seemed relieved when they noticed her arms around his. Chloe—a honey gold, perpetually tipsy bunny— caught the skeleton’s eye as they passed her table. The drunk bunny’s gaze flickered between Sans and the human, before she grinned. She wiggling her eyebrows and winked suggestively at him when Daphne’s back was turned. Sans felt his face heat up and he looked away.

 

“Hey Grillbz. We’ll have a couple of th’ burg.” Sans said settling down on his regular barstool.

 

“And two beers.” Daphne’s voice threw in, sounding faintly strained. Grillby glanced around in confusion before leaning down to peer, over the edge of the bar. Sans was short for a monster—he knew that. But he hadn’t realized how laughably disproportionate the barstools were until he saw Daphne trying to climb up onto the one next to his. Grillby’s brows drew together. Sans let out a soft chuckle reaching down. he picked the human up by the back of her coat and set her on the stool.

“This is pipsquea—uh, ‘Daphne’ Grillbz. She a…friend of a friend.” He patted her back with a chuckle.  “Isn’t that right pipsqueak?”

 

“You stretched my coat out, dingus.” Daphne grunted with no real venom. She turned and gave the flaming bartender a lazy wave. “Hey Hottie. Nice place ya got here.”

Grillby stiffened, the flames of his cheeks turning slightly green. He gave a polite nod and cleared his throat—a sound like crackling flames.

 

“I’ll…get those drinks right out for you...” He crackled softly before hurrying off towards the kitchen. Daphne barely glanced up at this, her half-massed eyes focused on the alcohol menu. Sans watched her from the corners of his eyes.

How was this tiny human so _chill_ about everything? She was sitting in the middle of an _all monster_ bar with a near-stranger as if it was the dullest most unspectacular thing in the world. It didn’t feel like an act either. Not the forced calm and frozen smiles other humans threw on when they were uncomfortable. It was like sitting with another monster, like having lunch with a _friend_.  Sans stiffened, realizing that he was letting his guard down. She wasn’t a friend and this wasn’t some chummy get together either. This was _abnormal_.

 

“Hey. Big guy.” Daphne grunted. “Think it’s too early for Tequilas?” That drew an incredulous snort from the skeleton.

“Are you even old enough to drink pipsqueak?” he rumbled. Daphne cocked a brow, glancing up at him.

“I’m _24_.” She deadpanned. Sans squinted looking her over. She was so puny. He pegged her for a teenager at most.

“You’re not _patella_ ‘in me a _fibula_ , are ya pipsqueak?”

“I’m 5’2. That’s like—on the shorter end of average.” Daphne shrugged. “s’not my fault you’re a friggin _giant_.”

“Well _fee, fi, foe fum_ pal” Sans chuckled. Daphne smirked actually lifting her eyes from the menu to regard him.

“Ha. Didn’t think you actually caught that one.”

“I looked it up.” Sans replied. The human snorted at that, eyes returning to the menu. Another beat of silence followed. Sans shook himself. He was letting his guard down again. _What was wrong with him?_

 

“Always thought that story was screwed up. Dude breaks into the giant’s house, steals his magic harp and goose and shit—then ends up murdering the guy. An’ for some reason he’s the hero. In a book for _kid_ s even. ” Daphne let out a humorless snort. “No wonder the world’s gone to hell…”  Sans chuckled. He leaned on his elbow to regard her.

“Pretty sure there was some grindy, ‘bone-bread’ shit exchanged somewhere in there pal.”

“Didn’t say he was innocent,” Daphne shrugged, turning over the menu. “But he sure’s hell didn’t throw the first punch.”

“mmm..”

 

Grillby returned setting a couple plates in front of them. Daphne glanced up, setting the menu aside.

“Smells great Hottie.” She grunted. “Can ya wait a bit, then send up a couple of tequilas?”

Grillby nodded, and absently began scrubbing the glass in his hand with a rag. Daphne squinted.

“Hey… buddy—“

FHOOOOM!

Flames shot up out of the glass Grillby was cleaning, he fumbled to put it out nearly spilling it over. Daphne bit her lip.

 

“I was just gonna say… That’s my drink.” She nodded to the flaming cup. Grillby’s cheeks burned bright teal. He set the glass down in front of her and stumbled into the kitchen. Sans grunted, elbowing her in the side.

“That’s mean pipsqueak. Grillbz is shy enough as it is.” 

Daphne shook her head brows knitted up in confusion.

“Didn’t think he’d get s’ flustered by it. Or well…. _at all_ really.” She admitted. Sans grunted, realizing what she was getting at. Humans hadn’t had any real ‘diversity’ in over a thousand years. Monsters had all their species packed together in a tiny cave for that long. Plenty of time for social biases to dissipate. Sans let out a tired sigh.

“Should I… Like say something to him…?” The human actually sounded unsure. Sans drew in his chin. It was an odd color on her.  He watched as she craned her neck towards the kitchen, frowning thoughtfully.

“Just eat your burger pipsqueak.” Sans rumbled. “He gets that song and dance bout every time Chloe hits her forth shot. He should be used to it by now…”

 

They ate in silence for a little while. More than once Sans noticed the human watching him while he ate. That wasn’t too weird. Humans could never seem to wrap their head around the idea of magic. And when he threw it out as an explanation for how he ate, talked, moved or whatever—they were always dissatisfied. Her eyes met his and she set her burger down and took a drink. So Sans leaned back and prepared himself for the usual questions.

“So Chara went on a little play date with your bro last week.” She began. Sans’ grin froze, and he suddenly remembered the cause of their meeting. “Came back to work in tears. Wouldn’t tell anybody why or what happened either. Since then she hasn’t been the same. All quiet and jumpy.” Daphne took big unlady-like bite from her burger, smacking her lips. “Got somethin’ you wanna confess?”

Sans lowered his bottle of ketchup with a sigh. Pleasantries were over now.

_It was time for the **interrogation** to begin. _

________________________________________________________________________________

_TUMBLR for this story: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/_

_Welp. For whatever reason, I really like writing Sans and Daphne together. More of that in the second part._

 

_EDIT:_

_here's my crap art. I don't know why I find their interactions so entertaining._

 

_Prolly because ones always like: (￢＿￢)_

_and the other is always like: ( ^ ‿ ^ )_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	29. INTERLUDE 4: The Interrogation (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> Visit the tumblr page for bonus content. http://sftdt.tumblr.com/  
> Seriously bros. We got some slightly spoilery stuff up right now. ;)
> 
>  
> 
> Malik_likeswaffles: ha. and here I thought you were team Sans to the death. XD
> 
> NekoAbunai: hahaha. 
> 
> BirdyBones: *nods* the feels are strong with this one.
> 
> eJ121: interesting theory. I guess you'll find out soon enough what happens.

INTERLUDE 4: The Interrogation (pt 2)

 

 

 

 

 

Sans wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. He didn’t really owe the human an explanation. Hell, he didn’t owe her anything really. He should just relax. It wouldn’t be that hard to get rid of her. He could just make something up if she got too close to the truth.

And yet…

Why was he so frigging nervous? It must have been her weirdness. Yeah- that’s what it was. She didn’t act like a normal human. That threw him a little. But he could get over it. Right?

Something about the human’s calm blunt persona made him uneasy about lying to her. She was analyzing him—he could tell. And she seemed like the kind of person who could recognize a lie when they heard one. Even if it was a particularly good one.  Sans let out a breath.

_Okay._

The plan was simple. Give her the barebones (heh) explaination. Try to be as truthful as possible without revealing anything too incriminating. Find out what she knows—then use that as a guide for how much to tell her. Give her just enough to sate her curiosity and put her suspicions to rest. 

 

“The kid and I had a disagreement.” Sans finally said. “I told her not to come around anymore.”

 

"Mm. Is that right?" Daphne grunted. Her eyes drifted to his chest. The human seemed to be waiting for more so Sans went on choosing his words carefully.  
  
"She’s been getting into some stuff she probably shouldn’t. gonna get herself into trouble if she keeps poking her nose in places it don't belong." Sans shrugged. The human’s eyes drifted up from his chest and settled on his face. She cocked a lazy brow.  
  
"I get ya. So, did this ultimatum of yours extend to all monsters?" Daphne wondered "or just your brother?"

Sans’ soul flip flopped in his chest. He played it off, keeping his smile aloof and unreadable.

 _Well crap…_  
  
Time to switch tactics.

_….again…_

Sans sighed, running a hand over his skull.

  
"Listen bub…Bad stuff has been going down around here lately. Just look at th’ 9 o’clock news.  People are going missing. Some of em are even getting killed. The kid don’t need to get mixed up in all that. Its better if she keeps out of it. It's for her own good"

 

Daphne blinked slowly. She took a drink.  
  
  
"Ah. So are you’re just worried about her safety huh? Just trying to be a good citizen? How nice..." Her flat, sardonic voice made Sans falter.

 

_This… wasn’t the way it was supposed to go._

The human’s eyes drifted back down to his chest and her scowl deepened. A stab of alarm. Of realization. The human’s eye line. She was staring directly at the center of his chest. Exactly where his _soul_ was settled.

“Oh. Perfect. Thank you.” Daphne smiled, turning her attention away from the skeleton. Grillby had come over to set a pair of drinks in front of them. The human’s eyes widened at the size of the fizzing glass before her. Grillby glanced between her and the drink before sucking in his cheeks. He clearly hadn’t taken in to account how little she weighed compared to his usual customer.

“I can…I can find you a smaller glass...” he crackled, reaching for the cup.

“No no. This is okay. Better than okay…wow…” Daphne swatted away his hand in an absent shooing gesture. Her eyes never left the cup, a determined smirk forming on her face.  She didn’t even seem to notice or care that she’d brushed hands with the flaming man. Most humans Grillby had met were convinced he’d burn them if they so much as shook his hand. The bartender flushed, drawing the hand away to scratch his cheek.

The flaming monster watched her take a sip, looking as though he wanted to say something. He seemed to think better of it, and shuffled off to the kitchen presumably to clean some glasses— _and hide._ Once Grillby went away again the human turned her attention back to the skeleton. His grin had waned.

 

“Where were we?” Daphne grunted.  
  
“Pretty sure you were grilling me for information.” Sans grunted. He cracked his knuckles. “You ask a lot of questions pipsqueak. How's about _answering_ a few?” Daphne raised a brow.  
  
“Oh? You wanna ask me somethin?”

The skeleton shrugged.  
  
“can’t expect to get something for nothin now can you? s’only fair.”

 

The human regarded him, she ran a finger over the brim of her glass, trying to make it hum. Sans waited. He was regaining control of this interrogation one way or another.

 

“Alrighty then. Hows about we make it a game?” Daphne said. She pushed Sans’ drink closer to him. He eyed her dubiously.

 

“Game?”

 

“A drinking game.” Daphne nodded. “Its easy. I ask you a question. If the answer is yes, you take a sip of your drink. If it’s no, you shake your head. Once you answer, its your turn to ask a question. Get it?”  
  
 “And what if one of us lies? Hmm?”

  
  
ooop. There. Right there.

  
Sans had been right before. The moment he mentioned deceit, human’s gaze drifted to his chest. Then her eyes met his and she squinted, nose wrinkling.

“I guess we’ll just have to trust each other. Wont we?” Daphne mused. The skeleton drew back slightly. _Just who the hell was this kid?_ A soft hum. She’d managed to get her glass to sing just right. “Well? Do you wanna play?”  
  
   
Sans folded his arms, then nodded.

 "Did you come to see me because you were worried about Charlotte?" Sans asked.  
  
The human took a sip of her drink. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve.  
  
"My turn. _Should_ I be worried about her?"  
  
Sans thinned his eyes. He took a drink.  
  
"Have you known any monsters personally before you met me and my bro?" Sans pressed. To this the human shrugged, taking another drink.  


  
Sans’ soul unclenched. Good. One mystery out of the way. He relaxed a little. Maybe her behavior wasn’t as bizarre as he was making it out to be. The human swished the frothy surface of her drink with a finger. Before licking it off absently.

  
"Hmm…You’re worried about Charlotte. But there’s more to it than that isn’t there? You think she’s going to seriously hurt someone. Don’t you?” she didn’t even bother phrasing this one like a question, her fingertips tapping on the side of her drink.  
  
The skeleton regarded her. He took a drink. How had she gotten to that conclusion so quickly? Sans studied her face. Was it possible that he wasn’t the only one who had noticed something _wrong_ with the kid? He gestured to the woman gingerly.  
  
"Do you think she _would_? Hurt someone I mean"  Sans asked.  
  
Daphne hesitated. She squinted at the drink thoughtfully. Before giving a tiny shake of the head.  Sans huffed. Warry. Hesitancy.  Never a good thing. The human tapped her fingers against the glass, seeming to think very hard about her next question. She let out a breath of air, before speaking.

  
"Have you ever tried to kill somebody?”  
  
  
Sans’ head came up slowly.

 _She knew_.

_How?_

_How did she know?_ T

hat look on her face said it all. She’d known this whole time. She already knew what his answer would be. Sans clenched and unclenched his fingers. Then lifted his glass and took a drink.  

 

Sans watched the human, bracing himself for her reaction. For her horror. The human closed her eyes. Then without a word, she lifted her own glass and took a _drink._

 

Sans’ eye sockets widened. The human paid him a rueful look, leaning back in her chair.

  
"Did you try to kill Charlotte?" she whispered.  
  
Sans’ teeth grit together audibly. He cast a glance around the bar. No one payed them any mind. Everyone was busy laughing and drinking, fully engrossed in their own little worlds. Each one, blithely unaware of the tense mood that had fallen over the two of them.   Even Grillby was actively avoiding them now. Sans returned his attention to the human.

  
_She already knows._  


  
The skeleton took a drink.  
  
  
  
"Did you know the answer to that question before I took a shot?" Sans asked shortly. Daphne took a drink. She smiled slightly, lowering her gaze. Her voice came out quiet and small. Somewhere between resignation and an embarrassed sigh.  
  
  
" _Are you going to kill_ me _?"_

 

Something in Sans ached. He turned his face away from her with a huff. And shook his head.  

  
"Are you going to tell people… about what I did?" he tried to keep his voice calm and steady, but there was an audible edge to it.  
  
To Sans’ astonishment, the human shook her head, she bridged her fingers.  
  
"Will you try and hurt her _again_?" Daphne asked. Somewhere in the bar a joke was told.  A chorus of monster laughter filled the air. The skeleton wished numbly that he knew what the punchline had been.  
  
  
"You don’t understand.”  Sans whispered. The human leaned up and in, coming nose to nose with the monster.  
  
"That is _not_ an answer." She grunted, voice colder than he’d ever heard it.  
  
  
  
"I don’t…I don’t   _want_ to hurt her." Sans whispered. He dropped his eyes to the side.. “I’m doing…everything I can think of to not have to hurt her again.”  
  
The human regarded him for a long moment. Her eyes flashing to his chest. Then she sagged, sinking back down into her seat. She looked _exhausted_. _Weak_. Even more so than usual.

_Yeah. You an me both pipsqueak…_

 

A silence passed between them.

  
  
  
  
"So. Do I know them? This person you tried to kill?" Sans asked. The human took a drink, not even bothering to look up.  
  
  
"Would it _matter_ if you knew them or not?" Daphne said flatly.  
  
Sans shook his head.  
  
"If…If you had it to do all over again, would you try to kill them again?" Sans asked.  
  
The human wilted. She looked like a gentle breeze would knock her off her feet. She shook her head lamely.  
  
  
"Are you worried I’m gonna do something now? Hurt somebody?" She wondered.  
  
The skeleton cocked his head. Then shook it decidedly. No. Even now, the human didn’t strike him as aggressive. Now she just seemed sad and tired as if she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.  
  
"There’s something else. You know more about this-this mess, than you’re letting on.” Sans said. At this point it wasn’t a question.  
  
The human took a sip.  Her face had grown very red by now. The jukebox was playing in the corner of the room. Sans couldn’t tell if her swaying was to the music or if she was really starting to feel the buzz.    
  
  
"There’s more _you_ know about this mess. But you keep it to yourself. You think nobody else will understand. You don’t want to burden anyone with It.” the human mumbled.

  
Sans took a sip. He leaned down closer to the humans face.  
  
"Who are you _really_?" he growled. The human shook her head.  
  
 “Sorry. That's not how this game works." Her eyes fluttered open turning towards her drink. It was a little less than half full. Sans had been so caught up with the interrogation he hadn’t noticed just how big of a dent into her drink she’d made. He ran the numbers idly in his head. Just how much tequila just disappeared into that tiny frame? The skeleton snorted. He was almost impressed. His was nearly empty.  
  
The human swayed.  
  
“Looks like this is the last round. Huh big guy?” she mumbled. The skeleton gave a sharp nod. She ran her finger over the brim of her glass. “Better make it a good one then.” She turned on him.

  
_"Have you ever met a taking flower?"_  
  
Sans let the air hiss from between his teeth. Ah. another piece to the puzzle.

So. He was still alive then. That son of a bitch… A tired grin found its way onto Sans’ face.

 He drained his cup.  


  
"Aaaand _game_ …” she raised her fist and gave a lackluster whoop.  
  
  
“Just how much did that weed tell you about us?” Sans grumbled.  
  
The human smiled tiredly sliding off of the stool. She swayed, hand rubbing her temples.  
  
"I think that’s your lot buddy. Lets…continue you this another time. Yeah?” The human fished out a receipt and jotted down her number and address. She held it out. "Same time tomorrow? My place?"  
  
The skeleton eyed the paper dubiously.

  
"You sure that’s a good idea kiddo? **Telling somebody like me where you live**?" Sans mused darkly. The human shrugged.  
  
“Too late now.” She picked up her glass, holding it with both hands, then threw back.  The skeleton stared. Was she _really_ trying to chug it?

“You’re gonna kill yourself pipsqueak.” He growled. She let out a gasp coming up for air.

 

“Not gonna waste it.” she jerked her chin towards the kitchen. Then started chugging again. Sans rested his chin in his hand, leaning in closer to watch her.

 

“Want me to get you a funnel?” he deadpanned. She raised a finger to him. The second the cup was drained she let out gasping breath, and slammed the cup down on the counter. She turned on him, smirking triumphantly.

“Now take me home.”

  
  
  
Sans did. The walk to the border was quiet. Mostly because the human seemed to be having trouble walking period. She swayed stumbling along beside him. Every so often the monster felt her slight weight bump into him, eliciting tiny grunts. When she tripped over the curb and nearly wandered into oncoming traffic the skeleton had had enough.  

 

“Damnit, just—c’mere…”  the skeleton swooped down, scooped the human up bridal style and began carrying her. Her eyes widened, darting confusedly around—probably the first time he’d ever seen them open all the way.

 

“whoa….wha…?” She struggled feebly for a few seconds before seeming to realize what was happening. Then she slumped into his chest and let out groan. “Heh…heh…look at you being all gentlemanly.” She patted his chest. The skeleton grunted.

 

“You better not puke. This is literally my only nice shirt.” He growled softly. She mumbled something into his chest that he couldn’t quite understand. The skeleton watched her from the corners of his eyes. She’d seriously overdone it. He shouldn’t have let her drink so much.

True, they’d had the same amount. But while he barely felt buzzed, she was clearly so plastered that she couldn’t see straight. Sans considered her dubiously. Monster made foods had a high magic concentration. Alcohol included. So did the buzz simply hit humans a lot harder? He didn’t have enough experience with humans to even guess.

For obvious reasons questions like these had never come up in his dealings with the nine-year-old ambassador.

 

  
"Damn pipsqueak. What were you thinking?” he sighed.

 

“Is fine…I needed it…” she mumbled, patting his arm absently.

 

“You sure as hell aren’t going to need the _monster_ hangover you’ll be feelin tomorrow morning.”

The human hmmed.

 

“I just…needed the extra courage.” She said quietly. Sans paused raising a brow at the tiny woman in his arms. She patted him again. “You…are the scariest friggin person I’ve ever met in my entire life. Did ya know that?” she mumbled into his chest.

Sans’ grin stiffened. _Ah. So then she wasn’t carved out of a block of ice._ He turned the idea over in his head. He guessed it was good to know.

 

“So… If I’m so scary, then why did you seek me out?” Sans asked. The human squinted. She raised a hand to her face and stared blankly at it, flexing and unflexing her fingers. She let out a sigh, lowering it again.

“I promised him…I would at least _try_ …”

Sans kept on down the road. He thought about asking her who she’d made the promise to, but thought better of it. He already had a pretty good guess. They went on in silence for a little while. The human had nuzzled her face into the front of his shirt. He shut his eyes.

What was he going to do now? He’d have to see her again. There were too many unanswered questions. Too many things he still didn’t understand. This whole crazy encounter had left him fried. But in a weird way, he felt sort of hopeful, in spite of himself. She’d found out what he’d done, but didn’t seem like she was going to go to the police about it. Either she was insane, or she knew a hell of a lot more than he’d first assumed. Was it because she understood _why_ he did what he did?

The human knew the flower. Did that mean she knew about the timelines? About _Chara_?

 The human was mumbling again—her voice unintelligible against his chest. The skeleton rolled his eyes. He took hold of the back of her hood and gently pulled her head away from him.

“Say again?” he grumbled.

  
  
"I said…I’m lucky I was right about you" she hmmed. “I’m glad.”  Sans scoffed.

 

“Glad? You’re glad that I tried to kill your friend?” He growled, bitterness finding its way into his voice. The human’s brows knit up in annoyance.

 

“No. Not that. That was stupid. And you—you’re stupid too. You’re lucky. My well of patience for bullshit is pretty deep” She grunted flatly. Her eyes peeled open to scowl up at him. “ **But trust me when I say you don’t wanna find out what happens if you hit bedrock with me.”**

Sans paused. A chuckle rumbled in him, escaping his mouth.

“Careful pipsqueak. That sounds an awful lot like a threat.” He rumbled pleasantly.

“Yes. It does. Doesn’t it? I know this prolly goes without sayin…but if I ever find so much as a scratch on that girl I know who I’m coming after.” She sagged back down, eyes shutting. “I’ll…I’ll kick your ass…”

The skeleton’s soul flip flopped inside of him. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling.

“that’s…that’s fair I guess.” He rumbled. “So then. What were you right about?”

She forced her eyes open again.

“That you’re not just out for blood. You actually care about what happens from here on out.” She mumbled. “Means you’re a hell of a lot better of a person than you pretend to be. That’s good. Makes my job…easier…”  
  
Sans turned this over in his head. It felt familiar somehow. He let the conversation die.

 

Sans had _wanted_ to like this human. He really had. She was one of the few who spoke to him like a person. And now it seemed reasonably possible that, she may be one of the few people who could actually begin to understand what he’d been going through. It was cathartic In a way. A chance to talk about everything he’d been bottling up. He eyed the tiny woman in his arms. She seemed to have dozed off, and was drooling unladylike all down the front of the only nice shirt that he owned. His grip on the human tightened ever so slightly.

_He wanted to see her again._

 

Soon enough the skeleton reached the border. He grunted nudging the human.

“End of the line pipsqueak. Time to get off.” He rumbled. The woman mumbled something drunkenly but made no move to get down. The skeleton shifted. He gave her a little shake. “Hey. Seriously. I get that you’re _bone tired_ but I can’t exactly carry you all the way home.” Sans snorted at the idea of someone on the human side of town seeing him carrying an unconscious woman around down dark streets. Yep. That wouldn’t be an apsolute disaster now would it?

When she didn’t respond, he huffed, getting a hold of her around the middle and standing her up on the pavement. She blinked around herself absently. Sans folded his arms.

“Go home. Now. Sleep it off.”  He made a shooing gesture with his hands.

The human blinked again. She tilted her head at him. The rest of her kept tilting…and tilting…

 

“Sonnuva-!” Sans scrambled over to catch her before she faceplanted onto the concrete. When he pulled her upright again she was already snoring. The skeleton let out a sigh. Reluctantly he pulled her back up into his arms. “You better not have roommates pipsqueak…” he groused, fishing the little paper with her address on it.

 

The human lived in a one bedroom condo on the far side of town. He took a shortcut, nearly dropping the human again when she leaned over the side of his arm and expelled the contents of her stomach onto the hardwood floors of her bedroom. Sans grimaced, patting her back guiltily as she coughed and gagged.

 _Humans were so friggin disgusting. It wasn’t even funny_. Once she stopped retching he carried her over to the bed. Sans had to pry her fingers off his coat so he could lay her down. She curled instantly into her pillows, coat, hat shoes and all, and began sleeping the sleep of the dead. Sans ran a hand over his tired skull.

 _He’d just clean up a little, make sure she wasn’t dead, and then he’d go._  
  
Something small and hard conked sans in the back of the skull.

“HEY!” a sharp familiar voice. Sans’ eyes darkened.

“Back off trashbag! Don’t even think about getting handsy!” he turned to see a familiar yellow flower glowering at him from a pot on the bedside table. The flower looked dreadful. Weaker, more wilted than Sans had ever seen him. The flower sneered, lips curling, tiny black eyes darting nervously between the skeleton and the sleeping woman. He seemed almost worried.

“Just cause she’s drunk off her ass doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want. So…so BACK OFF!”

Sans drew in his chin.

 _Oh_.

_Oh that’s hilarious._

 The skeleton shook his head with a chuckle.

 

“Pipsqueak wasn’t kidding about th’ wells of patience. Was she?” Sans snorted. The flower squinted.

“What was that asshole?!” he spat,  puffing himself up.

 “Heh. Nothing. Just let me clean this up and I’ll _leaf_ you two alone.” The skeleton winked. He some paper towels from the kitchen and began trying to clean up the puddle of vomit. The flower scowled, watching his every move.

  
  
“There! You cleaned up her puke. Bravo. Now would you scram already?” Flowey sneered.

 

“ _damn-delion_! What in _carnation_ is your problem? I was on my way out. Honestly, I think you’re a _lily_ -bit  tense _bud_.”

Another friendliness pellet smacked into the back of the skeleton’s skull, and the flower was already preparing to let another one fly. The skeleton shrugged.

“ _Iris_ my case.” He managed to get in another peal of chuckles before the pellets began flying with reckless abandon. He flashed away before the pellets could hit their mark. Half a second later he was standing on the street corner in front of Daphne’s condominium. He let out another chuckle, when he realized he could still hear the flower’s furious screeching from all the way outside. Moments later the light in Daphne’s bedroom window went off. The skeleton let out a sigh, turning to leave.

“Take care of yourself pipsqueak…” he rumbled. “Apparently somebody out there really cares about ya.”

Another flash.

Then he was gone.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 


	30. Chapter  21: Not Afraid Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> Tumblr for this story: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/
> 
>  
> 
> eJ121: So many puns….XD  
> I had to reread your post several times to figure out what you were actually trying to say. Haha.  
> I think they both kinda lost (and won depending on how you look at it.)
> 
>  
> 
> Malik_likeswaffles: >:)  
> Maybe…
> 
>  
> 
> Merween: Hey thanks a bunch! I’m glad you’re enjoying this. Seriously though guys, whenever you send me such wonderful specific comments I ALWAYS go back and reread what I wrote a couple times so I can understand what you’re getting at and so I will be able to take your advice into account when writing my next chapters. 
> 
> Comments like these are so helpful. I really am so grateful.
> 
> ####################################################

Chapter 21: Not afraid anymore

 

 

 

 _A dream_. Is that what this is?

 

 

The scene came slowly into focus, like a photo negative held up to the light. Charlotte was sitting on something large and warm. Her back was straight, completely still. Calm. She could feel something alive breathing beneath her.

 

“Mr. Asgore?” Her voice came out tiny—like a little girl. The tone was flat and emotionless. It didn’t suit Charlotte. She felt the massive being beneath her move, a deep ‘hmm?’ rumbling from impossibly large lungs. Charlotte folded her arms. “You haven’t done _girl_ hair before. Have you?” The huge presence chuckled.

“No, not too many I’m afraid.” A giant paw trailed around and held her own. The sight of it would have normally made Charlotte panic. But she didn’t. She felt…. “Is it that obvious?”

 

“You put too many bows in it.” Charlotte grumbled.

 

“I think you look charming.”

 

“ **I** think I look like a Christmas present.”

 

 A booming laugh, arms bigger around than her waist, encompassed the child a massive hairy face nuzzled into her back. Charlotte folded her arms, huffing in a tolerant manner.

 

“Oh princess. I could never be that wonderful. I’d have to be as good as gold my whole life and then some to deserve a gift like you.”

The gigantic being kissed her hair. Charlotte stiffened, feeling her face heat up. She shoved his nose away roughly.

“You’re just too bad at hair Mr. Asgore.” She said shortly. “That’s all there is to it. you just suck.”  The paws scooped her up under her armpits  and turned her around. The king was grinning down at her, eyebrows wiggling. “hmph!” she scowled, causing the monster to let out another bone rattling laugh, that vibrated through her entire body. He was so huge. Bigger than Charlotte remembered. She’d thought he hadn’t been much taller than about ten feet. But now—the top of Charlotte’s head barely came up to his knee. Had he grown? Charlotte should have felt terrified. But she felt, bashful instead. The king folded his own arms, mirroring Charlotte’s defiant pose.

 

“Hmmm… well now, maybe I just need a good hair teacher.” He mused cocking a brow at her. “Do you know any?”

 

The scene melted into another. Charlotte was standing—yes standing!—on the king’s knee so she could reach his beard. She had her fingers tangled up in it, sectioning off the hair into three clumps. 

“Don’t move your head.” She ordered.

“I wont”

“And don’t wiggle your legs so much. I’m gonna fall off” She pressed. Another chuckle.

“of course."

 

“Okay… start with three clumps.  its over and under, over and under okay?” Charlotte instructed. Her fingers deftly began braiding the beard. “Just keep replacing the middle part with a piece from either side. When you finish a braid, grab some more hair from the sides into clumps.”  A deep ‘hmmm’

 

“What makes it a _French_ braid?” he asked. Charlotte conked his nose with the blunt of her hairbrush. She scowled, closing one eye.

 

“What did I say about moving your head Mr. Asgore?”

 

“Forgive me.”

 

She paid the king a stern look but went on with her lesson.

 

“when you reach the end you tie it off with a hair tie. And put a bow. ONE bow.” She held up a single finger to emphasize this point. The King grinned, reaching for a hand mirror and holding it out to get a look at himself. She’d turned his entire beard into a long thick French braid. A little pink bow was fastened to the end. His grin widened.

 

“Would you look at that!” He mused turning the mirror every which way. “What a wonderful job you did! Thank you for teaching me little one” Charlotte shifted, looking down at her sock covered feet. The king laughed pulling her into a bearhug. She didn’t return it. But her tiny hands timidly fingered the monster’s beard. He drew her back to beam. “Maybe I should have you do this every morning. Could be a good look for me?” he winked teasingly. Little Charlotte didn’t seem to understand the joke because her nose wrinkled up. she shook her head reprovingly.

 

“I don’t think so Mr. Asgore…”

 

 

A dream—that’s all it was. And it faded with the morning. With the cold cynical honest light of day.

 

Charlotte awoke. Face pale. Eyes wet.

Aching with some distant hunger. The echo of pain that was never hers to begin with. A sense of complete adoring, _obsessive_ longing.

 

And then _anguish_ —the disillusionment.

_Shock_

_Disbelief._

_Betrayal._

_Sorrow._

 

 

**_Revenge_.**

 

 

#########################################################################33333

North Ebbot police believe a body found in a southern district recycling bin may be that of a missing Ebbot woman. Examiner has not yet confirmed the woman’s identity but believe it to be that of 29-year-old Eliza Hart who was reported missing by her family last Saturday. 

Shortly before her disappearance Hart posted on social media of her intentions to crash a southern district rave held at a monster-operated hotel known as _MTT Resort_. When she did not return home the following morning, and had failed to answer her phone, Hart’s younger sister—a central Ebbot Nurse—called the police.  Later that afternoon, Miss. Hart’s 2015 Toyota Highlander was discovered booted for double parking outside of MTT Resort. Its owner however, was nowhere to be found. 

Detectives determined the missing woman was likely the person whose remains were found in the recycling container according to Ebbot police commissioner Donald Reed. 

The body’s discovery was called in, at 6:47 am by local garbage collector—Doug Suite, while making his rounds. Suite discovered the naked, heavily mutilated corpse buried in a Recycling bin beneath a considerable stack of ‘no trespassing’ signs. 

Detectives are in the process of questioning Hotel management to obtain a census of possible suspects staying at the resort—however information has not been forthcoming. Commission Reed had this to say—

 

**_Ha. No trespassing signs..._ **

****

_It’s not funny._

****

**_I know. Yeesh._ **

****

Charlotte closed the newspaper, folding it across her lap. She took out her notebook and began to write.

 

**_So…how many does that make?_ **

****

Charlotte flipped through the pages, counting the entries off with her fingers.

 

_That makes….10—no, 11 in the last four weeks._

Red scoffed.

 

**_That’s almost twice as much as last month._ **

Charlotte nodded, frowning at the numbers. She folded her legs leaning back against the bus top bench.

 

_It doesn’t make any sense._

**_What doesn’t?_ **

****

_Undyne told me that monsters we being killed too—apparently a lot.  But I haven’t been able to find a single news report on monster homicides. Not one._ She nibbled her lip.  _I don’t think she would lie about something like that—so if monsters are dying why we do never hear about it?_

Red scoffed again.

 

**_Isn’t it obvious? When humans die they leave a nice bloody corpse behind for the cops to find. When a monster dies they turn to a pile of dust. They just get scraped off the blacktop by the morning street sweepers._ **

Charlotte winced at the mental image. She wasn’t even entirely sure what monster dust was supposed to look like—most humans didn’t. The thought made her sick. If people came across a dead monster in the streets there would be no calls of 911.There would be no police tape, no forensics there to take pictures—to perform autopsies. No, police reports. No investigation. Humans would just go about their business, oblivious to the chalky bits of _person_ sticking to their shoes.

 

_But even so… they must at least report missing monsters to the police right? You’d think they’d at least publish some of it._

Red hummed. Her attention seeming to focus in on the newspaper across Charlotte’s lap.

 

**_So. Another homicide connected to a human who decided to poke around on the monster side of town, huh?  That’s—what? The eleventh this month? And an obvious warning to others like her to stay away. Now who does that sound like to you?_ **

Charlotte stiffened, fingers gripping the hem of her shirt.

 

_If you mean Sans then—_

**_Of course, I mean Sans Greenie. You’ve got to admit the similarities are there._ **

_I know. I just don’t think—_

**_What? You still think that all monsters are harmless?_ **

 

Charlotte’s heart started hammering painfully against her ribs. The unbidden memory of a cold grip on her soul came to mind. Of being bashed and flung into walls—of deep booming laughter punctuating ever blow. Charlotte’s breathing quickened. Why? _Why? Couldn’t she get enough air?_

A stillness stroked her soul. After a few seconds of gasping Charlotte let out a long ragged breath.

****

_N-no…_   Charlotte drew in on herself—clinging to the calming presence’s embrace.

 

_No…I don’t…_

**_Good…_ **

Red could fabricate calmness. Could steady the human’s breathing. Could replicate courage, confidence, and a number of other feelings Charlotte couldn’t conjure up herself. Red drew closer, buzzing. A tendril of cognition reached inside of her.

_Little by little._

_More by more._

_Deep by deep…_

Red could give her relief. Give her release.

_Courage._

_Calm._

_Confidence._

_Power._

_Determination._

But never **peace.**

Charlotte threw up a wall, pinching off Red’s access to her emotions. Her only venue to grab control. The presence recoiled. Limbs drawing away with a mental hiss. A _scowl_.

 

**_Are you finished being a victim yet Greenie?_ **

****

_I’m not a victim._

**_Ha. Well you sure do spend a lot of time feeling bad for yourself. Don’t you?_ **

****

_I…I promised him I wouldn’t let you out anymore…_

Red let out a cold laugh. She sneered.

 

**_You promised…ha. That monster tried to_ kill _us Greenie. He said it himself. And yet you still trust a single thing he says?_**

****

_You didn’t feel what I did. He was scared. Terrified of what would happen if I let you out again._

Red was fuming quietly now. Charlotte could feel disapproval rolling off of the presence in waves.

****

**_So you think we should forgive him? Ha. That trashbag isn’t worthy of forgiveness. Not after what he did…_ **

****

_I know… I just. What if he’s right about me? What if there something…_ wrong _inside me?_

 

The human drew her arms around herself, staring at a crack in the concrete.

 

_I always thought I was a nice person…._

**_There’s such a thing as too nice you know._ **

****

_Maybe I’m insane._

**_You’re not. We’ve been over this before._ **

****

_No that’s not—I mean what if I’m_ sick _? That whole fight… I wanted to-to…_

**_Its okay to want to hurt the people who hurt you Greenie. Its called not being a friggin doormat._ **

****

Charlotte didn’t speak for a long moment, eyes wide and haunted.

 

_If I…if I had let you fight with him… You would have killed him. Wouldn’t you?_

Red grew cold and hard in her chest. The weight of her on Charlotte’s soul almost _hurt_. The voice came out harsh.

Barely.

 Controlled.

_Rage._

 

**_Greenie. Who protects you when you’re in danger? Who sits there and hold your friggin hand when you decide to fall to pieces and freeze up? Who reminds you to take pepper spray with you when you go out alone at night? Who tries to talk you out of all the self—destructive_ bullshit _you decide to throw yourself into? Who keeps you_ sane _?_**

****

The weight on her soul grew heavier. Colder. more volatile.

 

**_I AM, the one who keeps us alive  Greenie. I AM,  the reason we didn’t kick the bucket a long time ago. I AM the one who gives a damn about what happens to you. NOT that homicidal trashbag and his bullshit sense of morality._ **

**_That comedian tried to kill you. He beat the ever-living shit out of you. He threw you around and broke you like you were_ nothing _. He LAUGHED while you begged and pleaded for your life._**

**_And you THINK that you need to protect HIM from ME?_ **

****

Charlotte covered her face with her hands. He breathing growing erratic again. A buzzing in her ears muffling every sound.

 _I-I’m sorry…I’m_ sorry _!_

Cold.

Scoffing.

Smugness.

**_Yeah. Yeah I bet you’re sorry._ **

Charlotte gasped, and shook a moment longer, forcing her breathing to slow. Her voice croaked out. Weak. Scratchy.

 

_“He let me go.”_

 

Red hardened.

 

**_Just…Just cause he didn’t have to balls to finish what he started… does NOT mean he’s a good person._ **

****

_I’m scared…I don’t want to hurt anyone. N-not ever…_

**_You’re not a baby anymore. You can’t live in your little idealistic fairy-land where everyone is a frigging saint. Not if you want to stay alive…_ **

****

_I know…_

**_Its time to stop being the victim, Greenie. Its time to stop being afraid all the time._ **

Charlotte closed her eyes, fists tightening with resolve.

 

 _I am_ not _afraid…_

****

Charlotte felt numb. At some point—who can be certain when?— the bus arrived. Charlotte got on it. She sat in the back, eyes fixed out the window. Soon they were nearing the final stop. The last one before they hit the border.

 The human slipped a hand into her book-bag, feeling for the hard cool leather against her fingertips. Checking once more that she still had it with her. She did.

It was the book. The book she’d stolen from King Asgore’s library. The evidence of what the monster king had done to those children. She’d kept it with her all this time. Taken it everywhere she went. She tried burning it twice, but could never bring herself to drop it into the flames. So it just sat, like a tumor growing in the back of her brain. A deadly secret. A choice she never wanted to make.

 

For perhaps the hundredth time since Charlotte had taken the journal, Red urged her to action.  Her petitions would come. And along with them—her feelings. So cold. So ferociously unfeeling.

It scared her.

Yet she didn’t want it to _stop_ …

 

 ** _Just give it to the police. You don’t even have to let anyone know it was you who gave it to them. You can call in an anonymous tip and leave it somewhere specific for them to find. Nobody has to find out what you did._** Red whispered. **_You know that’s what you should have done from the beginning. It’s what that_ monster _deserves._**

****

****

The bus came to a stop. Charlotte stepped off into the street. A block to the north sat the temporary police station. The station had been set up shortly after the monsters had taken up residence to the south. People felt safer—more protected with law enforcers so close to the border. Close enough to run to if something went…

Wrong.

 

**_Don’t feel guilty…_ **

 

Charlotte stared at the building numbly, hand still gripping the book inside of her bag.

 

**_It’s the right thing to do…_ **

 

Charlotte sniffled. She turned shakily to peer off towards the south. She could see the steeple of the Embassy poking out of the skyline, just a few blocks away. She hesitated.

_M-maybe…I-I…could…_

It hit her like a tidal wave. Like a wave that could drown the whole world.

Red’s emotions. Red’s _pain._

 

**_You’re always going on about making the world a better place._ **

**_And we both know it’d be better without people like_ him _._**

**_Without monsters like_ Asgore Dreemmur. **

 

_Betrayal._

_Agony._

_Then emptiness._

 

It was strange. That feeling of caring for nothing. It was almost liberating. Nothing could hurt you. Nothing could reach you.

 

Nothing mattered anymore.

 

Charlotte could feel it, pulsing from Red. If she let it in… if she let that emptiness take her…

she would be free.

 She could just let go.

Let herself drift away.

And let Red inherit the _power_.

The _control._

 

**Red knew best after all.**

 

_Charlotte wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore._

_She wouldn’t have to hurt anymore._

 

_**It hurt to care like Charlotte did.** _

_**It hurt to try so hard.** _

_**It hurt to roll your soul out like a welcome mat—then watch those you love trod it into the dirt.** _

_**It hurt to let yourself love. To let yourself love anything.** _

_**Or anyone.** _

_**To trust even when you knew better.** _

_**Only to be disappointed.** _

 

_**It**_ **ached.**

_**To see the things you gave your life for** _

_**Broken.** _

_**Stolen.** _

_**Lost.** _

__

_**Forgotten.** _

__

_**It hurt to be broken again and again until you’ve learned your lesson. Until you’ve realized the truth.** _

 

_**They are nothing.** _

_**I am nothing.** _

_**They are sick.** _

_**They are cruel.** _

_**They are wrong.** _

__

_**I am sick.** _

_**I am cruel.** _

_**I should be erased…** _

 

_**Then, inspite of everything you’ve heard and seen. Despite what you know.** _

_**You let them in again.** _

_**You let yourself care about something.** _

_**To love…anything.** _

_**To tell yourself you’ve found the city of gold.** _

_**That you’ve found a god.** _

_**An exception to every rule you’ve taught yourself.** _

_**A reason to try one last time.** _

_**An idol.** _

 

'oh _princess_. I could never be _that_ wonderful…'

 

_**Only to discover that it was vanity.** _

_**There are no gods.** _

_**There are no exception.** _

__

_**Everyone is sick.** _

_**Everyone is cruel.** _

_**Everyone is…** _

**_nothing._ **

 

_**And I am sick.** _

_**I am cruel.** _

_**And this world should be** _

**Erased.**

 

_**That calm was an escape.** _

_**A promise that, whatever happens, everything will be okay. The sun could fall from the sky—and that would be just fine.** _

 

_No more guilt._

_No fear._

_No remorse._

_And no more dreams…_

_Just strength._

_Just courage._

_Confidence._

_Power._

_Determination._

_But not_ **peace.**

_No…_

_never_ **peace…**

 

Charlotte was drowning. Losing herself in that bitterness.

A bitterness that was never hers.

The pain of one who had cried too many tears—had used up their reserve before they could even spell their name.

Charlotte did not understand. She could never _ever_ understand.

Red’s words came to her again. Deep. All encompassing. The voice of ruin.

 Of death.

****

**_Destroy him for me Greenie._ **

**_I’m begging you…_ **

**_Give him what he_ deserves _..._**

****

**_########################################################################3_ **

****

****

Meep! Meep!

:P

 

 


	31. Chapter 22: Enfant Terrible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: 
> 
>  
> 
> @ Irukaj: Wonderful! Welcome aboard!
> 
> @ ThrowawaySpecificallyForThisComment: Wow, thank you! I work a lot of night shifts at an art museum as a security guard. (kinda like night at the museum. Only no magic and its boring as hell) I’m the only one there for my shift and most of the time I’m holed up five nights at freddy’s style in the control room watching cameras. So I get a lot of time to myself with nothing o do but write. ;) Once I get switched over to days, my steady flow of updates might deteriorate. 
> 
> As to the answering comments bit, I LOVE talking to readers and answering their questions. Hearing all of you guy’s thoughts and ideas gets me pumped to write more. So thank you awesome reviewer! You’ve made my day! 
> 
> @ eJ121: heh, yeah. Sorry buddy. I’m kind of an idiot sometimes. On my computer, I’ve got this story numbered by entries. And with the prologue and interludes, last chapter read in my files as entry 30. I should’ve paid more attention when posting. ^^ sorry about that!
> 
> @ Non-Exhistent: Kinda like watching a car crash. You know its gonna be bad but you can’t really bring yourself to look away. ;)

Hey kiddies! So I’ve got an ask thingy up on the tumblr page now. I’m planning to do some more illustrations for this and would love your input. ;)

Sftd.tumblr.com

 

 

Chapter 22: Enfant Terrible

 

 

 

Charlotte felt it coming on.

The stale buzz. The vibrations. A feeling of pins and needles all over her body.

She was floating. Suspended in darkness. Lost In that hazy state between consciousness and dreams. She saw nothing. She heard nothing. Felt nothing. Nothing but the touch of Red’s thoughts on her soul. Veins of consciousness, wriggling through the chinks in her armor. Taking root deep inside. The buzzing—the weight on her chest—only then did charlotte realize.

She couldn’t move.

It didn’t hurt. Not _really_. It felt sort of like going under anesthesia before a surgery. Its scary at first—relinquishing control. Giving your will completely over to another. But then the calm sets in. The relief that someone smarter than you—better than you—would take it from here. They would fix you—heal you. Make you better than you were before. You didn’t have to worry anymore. You could just…

 

_Sleep._

 

Yet it was _wrong_. Charlotte’s dying consciousness realized this too late. She was drifting to the edge of the void. She was falling. Fading. Drifting down into a sleep from which she realized she would never _ever_ return. But now. Now…

 

Charlotte hadn’t the willpower to resist. She was too far gone. The darkness was already taking her.

 

Red had done this. Hadn’t she? A sort of merciful betrayal.

The presence was killing her softly. Slowly.

Slitting her throat.

  _Then kissing her goodnight._

**‘Miss Fox…’**

A voice. Far far away. Masculine. Deep. Unfamiliar.

 

**‘Miss Fox…’**

_Hello…?_

Concern. Worry. Compassion.

Compassion…?

Nothingness parted, like a single match being lit in the distance. Its tiny light searing a thread of feeling through the darkness. Something was stretching. Reaching for her in the black.

**‘Charlotte, can you hear me?’**

_Yes.._

 

 **‘Stay with me Miss Fox. Stay with me…** ’

Through the numbness, Charlotte felt a hand grip her shoulder. A shock. A tug inside of her. Like an elastic band being stretched and stretched until it snaps back to its previous dimensions.

The snap came. And with it—a _roar_.

Rage. Cold, crazed ferocious _rage_. Then the recoil. Red thrashed and raved against her, veins of thought stretching, spreading thinner and thinner. Before beginning to _break_. 

 

Charlotte felt again. Her arms were thrashing. Fingers clawing and unclawing, her spine writhed, curling in and snapping back as far as it would go In rapid succession. Pain. Oh, it fell over her like an avalanche.  She was seizing. Dashing her own head and body against the unyeileding ground. Terror, gasping. Blindness.

 

**‘shhh….breathe…just breathe…in and out, in and out. You’re doing great…’**

 

A hand on her chest, guiding her. Trying to slow her painful heaving. Someone was stroking her arm, hand running from shoulder to elbow, lifting, and repeating. Another touch of worry. Of compassion. Charlotte clung to it. _Desperate._

 

In.

Out.

In.

Out…

 

**_Breathe_. **

 

Everything slowed. Everything calmed. She wasn’t thrashing anymore.

 

**Breathe.**

In.

Out

In.

**Good girl.**

 

The sun. Warm. It pierced her eyes. She blinked. The golden glow of daylight. Green all around her. The smell of freshly cut grass. Softness beneath her cheek. She was lying on her side.

Light found her.

 Darkness fled.

 

Slowly—very slowly—Charlotte lifted her eyes. A man. A man in a posh three piece suit, knelt over her. Jacket off. Collar unbuttoned. A well-tailored vest. A lilac colored tied.

_Who…?_

Charlotte blinked, squinting through the garish light at the man’s face. Her tired brain registered every feature like a flash of a camera.

Dark gelled hair.

Olive complexion.

Middle aged.

Handsome.

Familiar.

Expression— _grave_.

 

Charlotte’s throat was dry. She coughed.

“What happened…” she whispered, hoarsely. The man’s mask of concern melted. Smile lines formed around his mouth and the corners of his eyes. _Relief_.

 

“You had a seizure Miss Fox. What can you remember?” he said.

 

 _Seizure_?

Charlotte sat up slowly, taking the man in. He was pretty. The _fake_ kind of pretty. dark lashes, rosy cheeks. Like some Hollywood actor. His complexion was clear. Charlotte blinked. Was he wearing _makeup_?

It was him. That voice. The one that had woken her. Had brought her back before she…before she…

 

“Who are you? How do you know my name.” She wheezed. The man flushed.

 

“Ah. Yes. It was on your driver’s license.”  He cleared his throat. Charlotte’s bag sat open by his knee. He scratched the back of his head.

 

_Embarrassment. Sheepishness._

 

“You just started seizing there in the street Miss. You weren’t wearing a medical bracelet. I didn’t know if this…sort of thing was normal for you. I was looking for a medical card.”

 

Charlotte blinked.

 

The man grinned awkwardly raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.

 

“I promise I didn’t take anything. I simply wanted to know if I should call for an ambulance or not.  You can double check your things. It’s all there.” He muttered.

 

 _He’s trying not to seem creepy._ Charlotte’s brain registered dully. She regarded the stranger, reaching hesitantly for his emotions.

A parental flavor of concern. Sort of like how Dave felt after he learned that Daphne had wrestled a crazed Doberman to the ground. The buzz of shock hadn’t worn away yet. But the genuine kindness came through loud and clear.

  
“Its okay. I trust you—thanks.” Charlotte smiled weakly. The stranger relaxed somewhat, returning her smile with a frazzled one of his own. Charlotte ran a hand over her wild hair. There was a tender knob on the back of her skull and a slight ringing in her ears—likely from hitting the ground.

 

She dropped her gaze dizzily, trying to quell the pounding in her ears. There was something black folded up in the grass were she’d been lying. Charlotte picked it up and absently unfolded it.

 

It was the man’s suit jacket now slightly wet and muddy. It was the kind with black pinstripes and fancy hand stitching. The _expensive_ kind.

 

“Oh!” Charlotte gasped. Her eyes landed on the man. He was still kneeling there. The knees of his nice pants were splotched with mud and grass stains. She rose shakily to her feet.  “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry! I can pay for the dry cleaning! Bollocks—I’m so sorry!”

Bemusement. The man squinted at her from behind a pair of round spectacles. His gaze landed on the jacket in her fists and he realized what she was talking about.

 

“oh… That’s alright Miss Fox. Don’t worry about it.” He let out a soft chuckle and took the jacket back, brushing the front off with a hand. “Never liked Armani anyway. Boss is always making me wear these monkey suits. Just a little dirt. He’ll get over it.”

Charlotte felt the blood run from her face. _Armani_. She'd spent a few summers during high school working retail in an upscale clothing store. So she knew _exactly_ how many zeros populated price tags with the name _Armani_.

“Anyway, I had to move you away from the road. Didn’t really want you rolling into traffic. With a little prodding I got you to walk here with me.—sorry, It was the closest soft place I knew to bring you.” The man said.

 

Charlotte blinked, taking in her surroundings. They were at the Embassy. Or rather—the grassy hill just west of the building. Her head swam.

 

“This is the monster Embassy.” She stated flatly. The man’s smile tightened.

 

“Right… erm. I had intended to bring you inside so that the on-call medic could have a look at you. But…” he shrugged, sheepishly. “Erm. I figured that waking up to a weird old guy would be jarring enough without—well you know. I didn’t want to frighten you more than you already were.”

 

Charlotte stared. Something wasn’t clicking. She’d had a seizure. A stranger had found her and brought her to the monster embassy because it was safer than letting her stay in the street. A _human_ man thought this place would be safer?

 

“Why did you bring me here?” she found herself asking. The man looked a little embarrassed.

 

“I’m…I really am sorry miss. I should have called an ambulance. But well, I was already on my way here when I found you.” he eyed her nervously, as if expecting her to panic. Charlotte merely blinked. She was missing something. It nagged at her as she tried to put everything together.

 

This man was familiar, although she was certain she’d never met him before. She ruined a suit worth more than her car and he barely noticed. His hair was too perfect. Teeth too white. He wore makeup. He'd taken her to a monster embassy for medical attention before chickening out. He’d already been on his way there when he found her…

_Oh…_

_OH!_

Charlotte leapt to her feet rounding on the man. He jumped dark brows raising.

"YOU!" She pointed at the now bewildered man. He blinked.

“Me?”

“You’re a U.S. Senator! I recognize you from the paper!” Charlotte didn’t realize she was shouting until after it came out of her mouth. She gasped clamping her hands over her mouth, face flushing.

 

A pinched look twitched over the man’s face, as if he was trying not to laugh. He scratched his nose.

 

“eh…ha.. Guilty.”

 

“Holy moly mother of moses!” Charlotte let out a frazzled laugh. She swayed slightly.  The senator eyed her, hands coming up in another gesture of surrender.

“Miss Fox I think you should lay back down. You’re—“

 

"I'm so sorry for troubling you! Gash! I promise I don't normally have freak outs like that! I don't know what happens! I'm so sorry senator...senator.." Charlotte’s head spun. She let out another pained laugh. The senator grimaced. “Wow…I’m such a ditz! I can’t remember your name? Is that bad? Am I-I talking too loud?” She staggered. The man put his hands on her shoulders to steady her.

 

“Call me Jack. Just Jack is fine. Please—let’s just sit back down. Nice and easy…” The man guided her back down to the grass, eyeing her as if he expected her to start seizing again. Charlotte pressed a hand to her throbbing forehead.

 

“Sorry…” she  mumbled.

 

“Eh, its alright miss. There’s a lot of us.” Jack rubbed her shoulder comfortingly. “Truth be told I don’t know half of those old stuff-shirts names either.” He winked. Charlotte shut her mouth.

 

A brief silence fell between them. Jack was regarding the woman hesitantly, seemingly deep in thought.

 

“Miss Fox… Do you mind if I borrow your phone for a moment? I left mine in my other jacket.” He asked, coming to kneel beside her again. Charlotte nodded drunkenly.

"thank you" he fished the phone out of Charlotte’s bag and started tapping away at it.  His brows creased, and he squinted over his spectacles at the screen.

 

“Is something wrong?” Charlotte asked. He let out a faint laugh shaking his head.

 

“Just… showing my age I guess. Didn’t these things used to have buttons? Can’t seem to get the dial pad pulled up…” 

 

“Let me see.” Charlotte held out a hand for it. He grinned sheepishly. Charlotte noticed he had pretty eyes.

“Again, thank you.”

 

Somehow Jack had managed to open the email messenger and was attempting to type the phone number into the subject line. She closed the app and opened up an empty text message for him. “Here. Try this.”

 

“Thank you.” Jack squinted at the screen, tapping out each number and letter one at a time. When he was finished he slipped the phone back into Charlotte’s bag. “I asked someone to take you in to see the medic. I hope that’s alright...”

 

“That’s fine…” Charlotte nodded. The man relaxed somewhat, but his nervousness didn’t abate. He threw a glance off towards the front of the building. Charlotte read his thoughts.

"Is this your first time visiting the monsters sir?" Charlotte asked. The man registered surprise glancing back at her.

 

" Oh. Yes. I um, just got off the plane last night” He ran a hand through his hair. "Its that obvious is it? Damn...heh,  I guess I'm in more trouble than I thought. Hm?"

 

Charlotte considered him. Poor guy. He’s a nervous wreck.  So his jumpiness wasn’t completely her fault then. Charlotte instantly felt a bit protective of the kindly politician. He was a lot more down to earth than she'd expected a senator to be. And he seemed so young (comparatively speaking anyway). Charlotte patted his hand feeling the need to comfort him.

 

“You really don’t have anything to be nervous about.” She assured. “I know a lot of monsters can be kinda intimidating. But most of them are really nice once you get to know them.”

 

“Oh?” Jack glanced at her, smiling faintly. Charlotte pointed off towards the front doors.

 

“See those two big guys guarding the doors? Total sweethearts. Just smile and be friendly. They won’t bite.  Oh! And the big knight looking guy at the front desk? He can come off as a little grumpy but he’s just tired. I think he might have narcolepsy actually.” She gestured animatedly, not noticing the smile on Jack’s face growing wider. “What else… oh! There’s a big fish lady in armor—that’s Captain Undyne. She can be real intense but she’s alright. She just wants everyone to be safe. Just make sure you check in at the front desk and keep your visitors pass visible at all times. She won’t bother you. and then—“

 

“Are you an ambassador?” Jack asked out of the blue. Charlotte paused, losing her train of thought.

“Huh?”

 

“You seem to know everyone so well. I assumed you must work here.” Jack shrugged. Charlotte felt her face flush.

 

“Oh! No no, I don’t work here. I just um—know a lot of people who do.” She stammered timidly. Jack’s grin grew wider.

 

“Well, maybe you should. They could use somebody like you around here.” He bumped her arm playfully with his own. In the distance, Charlotte could see the two guards from the front gate making their way across the grass towards them. Jack sighed. “I’m really glad I met you miss Fox. It really helps to hear about these monsters from someone like you. You seem to know them all so well. And genuinely like them.”

 

Charlotte lowered her eyes, shoulders coming up.

 

"I do like them. They're just... People really. Most of them are really kind once you get to know them."

The mans smile waned ever so slightly.

 

"Have you met king dreemmur?"

 

Charlotte heart dropped like a lead brick.

 

"U-um... I don't really know him. I only met him once or twice..."

 

Jack sighed. Disappointment. Charlotte bit her lip.

 

"B-but I hear he's very kind! All the monsters I know say he's a big softy! A-and..." She trailed off. "Well. I know he's kind of intimidating. But I think you'll be fine. Really!"

 

The man smiled weakly.

 

_Sadness. Doubt. Worry._

 

"Can you do me a favor miss fox?" Jack asked.

 

"What is it?"

 

"Don't..." He hesitated. "Don't come around this neighborhood alone anymore. Bring a friend with you."

 

"Why?"

 

"It's just... People like you seem like they're finding trouble around here. It's better safe than sorry." "Bring a couple humans, or one of your monster friends with you when you come. Alright?"

 

Charlotte found herself nodding.

 

"Good. Good girl." He grinned getting to his feet. The guards clunked up. When they caught sight of her their eye-lights widened.

 

“Lady dude!” The bunny guard gasped. The other guard knelt down quickly to scoop her up into his arms. “Bogus! What happened? You look like you got ran over by a friggin-“ The guard holding her elbowed the speaker in the ribs. He gestured vaguely towards Jack. Both of them stood at attention.

 

“Uh- I mean—Greetings Mr. Senator Dude…Sir.” He grunted as professionally as he could. Jack’s grin widened, twinkling eyes flashing to Charlotte. “Your party is like—waiting in the lobby for your arrival. Allow me to like… Escort you. 02 here will make sure little lady dude gets to the infirmary alright. Kay?”

 

“Thank you. That would be perfect.” Jack hummed nodding to 01. His eyes drifted to Charlotte once again. "Think about what I said about that ambassador thing will you? You definitely brighten up the place." He winked, letting the guard lead him off towards the building. Once he was gone 02 spoke up in his deep quiet voice.

 

“Senator man said you had a bad trip in the street. You alright?”  He started carrying her off towards the building.

 

“Yeah… I’m fine.” She mumbled, squinting slightly. What _had_ happened to her? Something definitely had. But the more she tried to think about it, the less she was able to remember clearly. She’d felt funny. Everything got dark. Red had been there…

 

_Red?_

The presence stirred weakly.

Distant. Annoyed. Grumbling.

 

_You… you okay…?_

**_You lied to him._ **

Red stated. Voice unfriendly. Charlotte bit her lip.

 

_I know._

**_They’ll find out the truth eventually. You know that right?_ **

****

_I know. Its just… People like him—what they think of monsters is really important. If I told him what Asgore did… he wouldn’t understand.  That opinion wouldn’t just stop at the king. It would spread to the rest of the monsters too. And… that’s not fair._

A weak scoff.

 

**_Not fair?_ **

****

_It’ll make it harder on everyone else. Harder to get like—jobs and rights and stuff. Won’t it? That’s not fair.  They shouldn’t have to pay for stuff they didn’t do._

A stab of anger.

**_What about the book? What about telling the cops about Asgore…?_ **

****

Charlotte bit her lip, hands feeling for her bag. She could still make out the cool leather cover. She closed her eyes.

 

**_No…You can't be changing your mind now. What if he does it again? Huh? What if  Asgore kills some other little kid and gets away with it because you chose not to say anything about it?!_ **

****

Red was getting herself worked up again. Oozing with emotion. With hopelessness. But…

 

_What changed?_

Why didn’t that echo of distant suffering feel overpowering anymore? When did it shrink? When did it stop feeling so impending. So important…?

 

Maybe it was because of Jack. He'd been nervous about meeting the king but he seemed like a genuinely good person. Fair. Open-minded. His opinions were worth their weight in gold as far as anyone in the government was concerned. And he said he'd been grateful to meet _her_. That she had helped him somehow. Made things just a little bit brighter—more welcoming.

 

_Maybe that meant…_

Red shoved Charlotte’s soul weakly. A growl.

 

**_You’re starting to think like a friggin planeteer again Greenie…_ **

****

Charlotte closed her eyes, listening to the soft clu-clunking of 02’s steady footsteps. She drew in a breath.

 

_I’m going to talk to him._

A strain of disgust. Frustration.

 

**_He-he doesn't deserve-_ **

_We don’t know WHAT he deserves Red. That’s the problem._  Charlotte cut in. Red went silent.

 

_Everything we do—even if its just you and me—it makes a difference. Turning him in doesn’t just hurt Asgore. It affects everyone. And if we make the wrong choice…_

 

_I’m tired. I’m tired of being the only one who doesn’t know whats going on. I have to talk to him. He knows us. I don’t know how, but he knew us Red.  And…I don’t know… Maybe—somehow we know him too. I-I’m not going to make a decision until I get a chance to actually talk to him._

Seething. Frustration. Anger.

 

 ** _Sans seemed to know us too Greenie._** She hissed. **_How well did that turn out for us?_**

 

Charlotte’s heart clenched, breathing picking up. A ringing began in her ears. And then…and then—

 

The cool metal of a large armored hand pressed gently into her cheek.

 

“Lady dude… you okay?” it was 02’s voice.  He had stopped walking and was peering down at her, eyelights, dimmed with worry. She quieted her breathing, forcing a small smile.

 

“Yeah…yeah I’m fine… thanks…” She whispered. 02’s head dipped to the side slightly, eye lights brightening.

“Don’t worry, I’ve gotcha. We’re most there.” He hummed. Charlotte’s heart flip flopped. They were all so _kind_. So genuine. Worthy of protecting. Worth trying to help one more time…

 

Red growled, sinking back into the darker corners of Charlotte’s mind.

 

**_If you’re wrong. If someone else gets murdered. Its on your hands Greenie. Understand?_ **

****

Charlotte closed her eyes again, letting out a long breath.

 

_I understand._

##########################################################################

 

_He’d been waiting for this._

The Senator stepped into the large office. He’d dismissed his bodyguards, opting to go in alone. It was dark.  The curtains were drawn. The only light was the soft orange glow from the fireplace.  a single towering figure stood at the window.

Jack had imagined this moment. Played it over a thousand times in his mind. Rehearsed every word. Explored every possible action. Every outcome. He’d lived and breathed and dreamt this moment.

And he’d wished—he’d _prayed_ it would never ever come.

Jack approached. The King didn’t speak, he just peered down at the man, hands clasped behind his back. Jack mirrored his pose. Back straight. Chin raised. He wouldn’t let the king see his fear. He _couldn’t_.

 

Without a word the king offered a hand. Jack took it, letting his own disappear within the king’s grip. The monster squeezed, eyes locking onto the human like a lazer beam. Then he spoke. Voice deep, tired—all grayed out from too many passes.

 

“Hello again Senator Aster.”

Jack lifted his head higher, deep purple eyes rising to meet the king’s. He forced a weary smile.

 

“Hello Devil.”

 

#####################################################################################

 I'm gonna go hide under a rock now. Kay?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	32. Chapter 23: Threshold

 Want more illustrations? Suggest ideas on tumblr.

TUMBLR: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/

**AN: I hate this chapter… Like… really reeeeeaaaally hate it. It fought me valiantly. Pretty sure it won.**

**I’m going to bed…**

**[letsallbecalmchaps](http://archiveofourown.org/users/letsallbecalmchaps/pseuds/letsallbecalmchaps): Yeah, She’s starting to fight her a little more.**

####  **ThrowawaySpecificallyForThisComment: I guess we’ll find out… ;)**

#### 

####  **[Irukaj](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Irukaj/pseuds/Irukaj): Haha. I kinda knew it was about to hit the fan when I revealed that Aster was still around. Wasn’t sure how everyone would respond to that sort of bomb being dropped. I’m glad you like Greenie and Red’s dynamic. I enjoy writing them a lot.**

#### 

#### This is the kind of thing I always thought would happen if the aftermath of the game was realistic. The kind of cold war esque fear and tension was what I found fascinating and wanted to explore. So I’m glad you find it realistic.

#### I’m glad you like Charlotte. It seems like most people are on the fence about her. Either they like her or they want to throw her out the window. XD I can honestly sympathize with both points of view.

#### And as to the Aster bit—hence why I have taken up refuge under a rock. ;)

####  [Menoshe](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Menoshe/pseuds/Menoshe): yep. His actual first name is Ajax. But Jack Aster… it was too sweet to pass up.

#### eJ121: hey pal. I know this is going to sound like a bad writer cop-out… buuuuut… the listing of emotions was kind of intentional on my part. XD

#### Charlotte’s main power/ability that she gleans from her soul type is Empathy. Or the ability to feel the emotions of others. So when I’m throwing out emotions without more description—I’m attempting (poorly) to portray how Charlotte reads them. Her consciousness of peoples emotions isn’t tied to facial expressions, body language or even the words they use but rather more of an intuitive unconscious kind of understanding. Like the other person is rolling up their feels into spit wads and flicking them into her face. They’re just suddenly—there.

#### I try not to use the same description layout when I’m writing from other characters perspectives but I’m pretty sure I’ve screwed up a couple of times there. XD

#### Thanks for letting me know. It’s a fair point and if it gets too distracting and detracts from the reading experience I’ll ease up and try something else.

#### As for the length, We’re a little over halfway in.

#### Lambs and [Amneal24](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Amneal24/pseuds/Amneal24): yep. It’ll make more sense as It goes on.

####  [GenericDragon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GenericDragon/pseuds/GenericDragon): Hey, glad you’re enjoying this! Hope I don’t disappoint.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 23: Threshold

 

 

Charlotte sat outside of the laboratory door in a large armchair legs crossed awaiting 02’s return. The guard had given her a small box of frozen treats labeled ‘Nice creams’. Not for eating though, but to press the cold packages against her swollen head. It was a kind gesture Charlotte supposed. However At one point the popsicles starting leaking, and before she knew it there was a glowing blue stain of juice running down her face. The human grimaced; definitely not her proudest moment.

Charlotte tossed the now liquefied nice cream bar into the bin, licking her sticky fingers before sinking deeper into her oversized seat. The laboratory door was fairly thick, but she could still hear 02 and the doctor inside bickering in hushed tones about what to do with her.

When Charlotte was about ten years old she’d found a robin with a broken wing on her way home from school. Being the overly emotional animal loving shmuck that she was, she’d tearfully carried the wounded animal all the way home and brought it to her mother and father.

Now to their credit, Charlotte’s parents were very kind people. They were also very _clean_ people. And incidentally that was the year when bird flu was on the rise in their area. So while charlotte frantically tried to convince her parents to help her nurse the animal back to health; her parents tried to persuade her to kindly get the diseased thing off of their dining room table and put it back outside.

 

_I hate irony…_

 

“W-why did you bring them _here_?!” stammered a nervous female voice. They sounded a bit nasal—like they had a perpetual cold. The two been at it for a quarter of an hour, and if Charlotte hadn’t felt quite so dizzy, she would have taken off already and avoided this awkward meeting altogether. Once again, 02’s deep mellow voice came to her defense.

 

“Like, what else was I supposed to do? What with th’ Doc all MIA and stuff?” he whispered back. Charlotte forced her eyes open at this, head cocking towards the door _. A_ doctor _was missing?_  

“They’re hurt Alph, All banged up and helpless n’ stuff. What do you want me to do? Just like, toss em outside in the cold?” 02 mourned dramatically. The doctor groaned.

 

“It’s _eighty-five_ degrees outside.”

Charlotte heard 02 clu-clunk in a way that made her think he was taking a step—probably closer to the doctor.

 

“C’mon Alph, I promised I’d get em fixed up…” 02 really was making a rather valiant effort. At least in Charlotte’s opinion. Despite her embarrassment Charlotte found it rather sweet.  While Red had been uncharacteristically quiet since their talk about Asgore and the book, she still scoffed and gave a mental eye roll whenever 02 spoke. Red was in as foul a mood as ever and she had focused her prickliness onto the big easygoing guard.

 

“I don’t know _anything_ about fixing humans!” The doctor sounded anxious. 02 wasn’t having any of it though.

 

“You fix monsters all the time! What’s the big deal?”

 

“Th-that’s completely different! Monsters are made of magic—humans have _organs_ , blood, little… _squishy_ bits…”

 

Clunk clunk clunk.

 

“Oh c’mon, you’ve worked on non-magic stuff before haven’t ya?”

 

“Well…yeah just lab rats and stuff… I grew a kidney in a pig once.” the doctor sounded nervous. “B-but I’ve never worked on a _real_ human before…”

Cluck-clunk

 

“So what? Rats, pigs, humans… how _different_ can they possibly be?” 02 rumbled innocently. He was met with a nasally mixture of a snort and a choke emanating from the doctor. Another sudden clunking.

 

“Ohmigosh! 02! You can’t just _say_ things like that!” The doctor hissed. “What if the human hears you!?”

There was a long pause. Charlotte could practically hear the little wheels and cogs turning in 02’s head. He let out a mellow grunt.

“Was that like… _racist_?”

A weary grin found its way onto Charlotte’s face. She heard the doctor swearing under her breath and shushing the guard frantically. Red however stiffened.

 

**_Idiot._ **

****

_Well I like him._

**_Pfft…_ ** **You would _._**

****

The doctor let out another moan.

“Listen… unless that human out there needs a _pig kidney_ , I don’t think there’s anything I’m going to be able to do for them. I really am sorry…”

02 clunked, rocking back and forth on his heels.

 

“Could ya like… _check_?  You know, pop the hood and poke around inside? Just to make sure nothing’s broken?”  02 asked.

 

“It’s a _human_ 02\. Not a pickup truck…”

****

**_Uhgh…I’ve had just about all I can stand of these two. Let’s just_ ** **go _…_**

****

_I’m not going to just ditch him._ Charlotte returned with a sigh. As much as she wanted to, it didn’t feel right wandering off on 02. Not after how hard he’d argued his case to this ‘Alph’ person. Red jeered.

 

**_Pfft. What if Asgore or that smiley trashbag walk by and find us sitting out here? Hm? Or did you forget they both worked here?_ **

At the mention of Sans Charlotte folded her arms uncomfortably.

 

_Doesn’t seem like many people come down here. Besides… I’m not sure I can walk too good right now…my head hurts pretty bad…_

**_Is that seriously your excuse? Your_ ** **head _hurts? Pfft!_**

****

_It…It does…_

**_Oh come on Greenie. You’ve got legs. You could get up off your ass and walk outta here if you wanted. YOU just want to stick around and let that bucket of bolts gush over you. How pathetic…_ **

Charlotte squinted her eyes shut, trying to ignore Red’s jabs. She forced herself to focus in on the conversation behind the door.

****

****

“She’s like, waiting outside Alph. Can’t send her away without at least getting her looked at. Thas’ bogus. I’m not doin’ it…”  02 sniffed. The doctor hesitated.

 

“I’m…I’m going to make a _fool_ of myself. Look at me—I’m already all shaky and they haven’t even come in yet!” the doctor’s voice grew shrill. Charlotte felt a little bad for causing such a fuss. There was another clunking noise as 02 shifted closer to the doctor.

 

“You’re kinda sweaty too…”

 

 “Oh great… Why do lab coats have to be white?” The doctor mourned. A muffled sniffing  sound. Then a grunt.

 

“You don’t smell _too_ grody” 02 soothed. “And hey! At least you like don’t have to worry about _rust_ …”

 

**_Breathtaking. I’m so glad we’re here to experience this…_ **

Charlotte brought up her legs with a groan, resting her forehead against her knees.

 

_Be…nice…_

**_We’re wasting time on these morons. Really._ **

 

_‘re…Not…morons…_

**_Of course, look who I’m talking to…_** Red grumbled. She drew in closer to Charlotte’s soul. She began stroking it invitingly. ** _Look if you’re so worried about not being able to make it home without swooning, then just turn loose and let ME get us back?_**

_Why don’t you just_ **shut the hell up** _Red?_ Charlotte hissed.

 

 ** _Well why don’t YOU just—Just…_** A mental double take. Red _gaped_. Charlotte’s eyes came open realizing what she’d just said. Where did _that_ come from?

 

 ** _What did you just say to me…?_** Red growled. Charlotte flushed. She forced herself to sit up straight, and cleared her throat.

 

 _W-we are staying right here._ Charlotte jabbed a finger into the cushion beneath her to drive home her point.

  _O-okay?_

Red was silent for a long moment. Then she scoffed recoiling moodily from Charlotte’s soul.

 

**_Yeah. Whatever…_ **

 

“T-there’s a reason they keep me here in the basement 02…” The doctor mumbled, voice slightly muffled as if her face was pressed into her hands while she spoke.  “I-I’m no good with all these political types.  I’m-I’m just going to end up embarrassing Asgore again…”

 

“No no, it’s cool— _really_. She’s not even the _Washington_ kind of human.” 02 was quick to reassure her. “She’s like the uh, um… _smallish_ … _chillaxed_ … _kind_?”  He said the last bit uncertainly and Charlotte cooed mentally feeling a sudden swell of affection for the guard. Red made no comment.

 

“F-fine...” The doctor sighed. “I’ll…I’ll see what I can do…”  


The lab door opened and 02 came clunking out to meet the human, eye lights triumphantly bright.

“Hey, sorry that took so long. But like, th’ doc is ready for ya now.”

 

Charlotte returned the smile she was certain was plastered on his face beneath his helmet before rising and following him into the lab. The lab was set up a lot like Sans’ back at the flat. However it was on a much larger more extensive scale. The room was brightly lit, walls lined with monitors, scales and a variety of other beeping machines Charlotte didn’t have names for. 02 gave Charlotte’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze before clunking off to return to his post. She gave him a small wave before heading further into the room in search of the doctor. Said doctor had their back to Charlotte, long yellow tail swishing against the floor as they worked. They were hurriedly clearing their desktop of empty take out boxes and soda cans when Charlotte walked up.

 

“Thank you for agreeing to see me. I hope it’s not any trouble.” Charlotte said, causing the doctor to jump. “I uh… realize this probably isn’t your normal job.”

 

“N-no no! Its no trouble at all!” The doctor stammered, sweeping what looked like pokemon cards and pogs into the top drawer of her desk. “I’m h-happy to help! It’s nice to—“The doctor turned fast to face the human and went quiet. Her mouth fell open and she  stared; scaley yellow face going white.  “…M-meet you…” she finished lamely.

Charlotte’s heart leapt up into her throat and she  dropped her backpack letting out a tiny squeaking gasp. Red jumped at the human’s reaction.

**_What?! What’s wrong? What is it?!_ **

Charlotte brain gasped, eyes tracing over the doctor’s body—taking it all in. A kind of giddiness bubbled through the human, chasing away her shock. Red tensed.

 

**_Greenie…?_ **

****

_Stygimoloch!_  The thought popped out like a belch.

 

**_Stigy— What the hell is that supposed to mean?!_ **

****

Charlotte was practically vibrating with excitement. She turned her eyes towards the doctor who looked equally shocked—though for a decidedly _different_ reason.

 

 _Dinosaur! Cretaceous period! Oh bollocks she’s_ gorgeous _!_

 

**_The fuck are you talking about?!_ **

****

Charlotte’s giddy brain dug around until it found a memory of a fossilized dinosaur skeleton she’d once seen at a natural history museum. She shoved the image into Red’s consciousness, internally squealing in delight. Red stared at the fossil. Bipedal. Long tail. Between 6 and 7 feet tall. Short muzzle. Horns protruding from the back of its skull. Red groaned.

 

**_Greenie you mother fucking nerd I swear—_ **

****

The human rushed forwards and took the doctor’s clawed hand shaking it eagerly.

 

“Sorry! I’m just um, really excited to f-finally meet you!” Charlotte chirped, eyes tracing eagerly over the dinosaur-like monster’s face.

From the age of four till the end of elementary school, Charlotte had been a dinosaur _fanatic_ she devoured books on the subject and seen all the documentaries she could get her hands on. When she was six she’d watched the Disney movie _Dinosaur_ over and over so many times that her babysitter Gina ‘accidentally’ ran it over with her car.

And While Charlotte hadn’t really thought about dinosaurs since she was about 9, the prospect of meeting a real one (or close to it) unleashed her inner dinosaur geek. The human was so excited she didn’t the doctor close the folder on her desk and discreetly slip it into the top drawer. Red hardened in Charlotte’s chest, gaze narrowing.

**_Greenie…_ **

 “O-oh…” The doctor forced a nervous smile, revealing a pair of rather bucky incisors. She was sweating. “Its n-nice to meet you too!” Charlotte nodded. She clasped her hands politely to her front. A beat of silence. The dinosaur’s sweating grew more noticeable.

 

“R-right! My name is Dr. Alphys. C-come right on in… We’ll get you…sorted out…” the doctor stammered. “J-just… sit over there on the examination table. I’ve gotta—I have to get… Erm. I’ll be right back!” Paying Charlotte one last pained grin Alphys  all but ran from her disappearing into a small room. The door slamming shut behind her with a reverberating thud. Charlotte’s brows rose.

_What…?_

**_Quick. Top drawer. Look in it Greenie._** Red growled.

 

_Wait why?_

Red shoved Charlotte’s soul hard.

**_Just do it! I need to see somethin…_ **

_But…_

Charlotte pulled a face, gaze flashing back towards the room where Alphys fled. Red made an exasperated noise.

**_Damnit Greenie! Can you just trust me for once?! She’s probably already calling him!_ **

_Him…?_

Charlotte frowned. Something about the urgency of Red’s command made Charlotte obey. She  opened the top drawer of the desk and peering inside. Pokemon cards. Strawberry pocky. Several holographic pogs featuring an anime character with cat ears…and a single manella folder. A folder with the letters ‘ **C. FOX’** written on the tab. The blood ran from Charlotte’s face. And with shaky hands, she opened it.

Drivers license number, W2s, previous addresses, family photos, even a copy of her birth certificate—how did they find all of this? It was all here. Every shred of her personal information—her entire identity, neatly compiled into a single folder.

 ** _He’s been_** **spying _._** Red growled. **_Son of a bitch sent his sniffer dogs after us._**

Charlotte didn’t reply. Her hands began to shake.  

“S-sorry about that!” Alphys voice snapped up Charlotte’s attention. The doctor had emerged from th e back room hefting a grey medical bag under her arm. “I just had to grab some…some…” Alphys eyes fell like bricks onto the folder in Charlotte’s hands. Then—silence.

 

“Dr. Alphys? Did…Asgore ask you to check up on me…?” Charlotte asked meekly.

The doctor grimaced, head ducking. Her face was so red it was practically glowing. She seemed to be trying to hide her face in her coat.

“U-um…its not what you—I mean…uh…”

Charlotte slowly closed the folder and put it down on the desk. How was she supposed to feel about this? Asgore had done a full blown background check on her. And by the looks of things, he hadn’t left a single stone unturned.  Sure, she’d left a pretty messy trail after the first time she’d visited, it wasn’t as if it would have been _difficult_ to find out more about her. And now that it was clear she’d been found out…

Did she _want_ to be found?

Charlotte shook her throbbing head, hands coming up to massage her temples.

 _This_ **is** _a government facility… And I_ **did** _, break into the private office of the_ **most powerful** _leader in the monster kingdom…_

The human grimaced. Things could be much worse. She was lucky she wasn’t rotting away in some federal prison already wasn’t she…?

Charlotte sank into Alphys’ desk chair. The doctor eyed her fretfully, mumbled half-formed apologies and explanations.

This was all wrong…

Charlotte hadn’t meant to come back like this. To face him again so soon. After Sans attacked her, after the danger had become all too real. After seeing what a _small_ monster could do to her if enraged—her nerve had broken.  The human had always been too trusting—too oblivious to just how _bad_ things could get. Asgore had called out to her and the innocent part of her wanted to go back. To set everything straight. But she’d been too nervous, too _afraid_ to approach him on of her own volition.  

Would he be annoyed with her for disobeying his orders to come back? Angry that she trespassed in his private rooms, and actually had the _gall_ to strike him?

 As the weeks passed Charlotte’s determination to set everything straight dwindled. Even now her resolve to see the king again had been contingent on **him** seeking **her** out. Because that meant that _he_ **wanted** to see her again. And because if Asgore tracked her down and wanted to talk—well then she would have to oblige. Who could say no to a king?  It was so much easier to choose when the choice was never _yours_ to begin with.

 

Charlotte closed her eyes, letting out a deep breath.

“Dr. Alphys? When you went into the other room you were _calling_ him… weren’t you?” Charlotte mumbled. The dinosaur flinched.

“I-I…”

“It’s okay. Just… _please_ … Tell me the truth.” Charlotte turned to the doctor paying her a weak smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “He knows I’m here now. Doesn’t he?”  The doctor looked as though she wanted to be anywhere else but there. She shuffled her feet, eyes downcast.

 

“Y-…yes.”

 

 

###########################################################################################

 

What say you? is it a match?


	33. INTERLUDE: Deadly Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
>  
> 
> Menoshe: haha I laughed writing that bit too. 
> 
> ThrowawaySpecificallyForThisComment: eh, it was the first thing that came to mind. 
> 
> eJ121: There will be more Alphys. Don’t worry. And paps will come back (eventually). I hated the chapter because it was hard to write. Stuff I had planned for the chapter decided it wanted to be part of a different chapter so I had to wrestle to regain control. Haha. I like it more now that I don’t have to deal with it’s attitude anymore. 
> 
> BirdyBones: eh, not that suprising. Hanging from cliffs is dangerous business.

INTERLUDE: Deadly Words

 

 

 

 

 

Four months. That's how long Asgore had known of Aster’s existence. He'd learned of it two days after Frisk's death.

 

The senator made an official request to give a special memorial address for Frisk’s passing. And his government granted it. He’d come on the news--before the whole world and paid his condolences.

 

To the world, it was a gesture of comfort and peace towards monsters and humans alike. An expression of condolences for the tragic loss of a remarkable young woman. And for many of Asgore's people it was touching. An uncommon kindness that most human politicians would not think to extend.

 

Asgore knew better. Toriel never fought in the war. Had never seen Aster's face. And no others still lived that would recognize it.  So in the end, only Asgore and Gerson recognized Aster’s address for what it was. Only they had seen the threat the old mage had clenched behind those grinning white teeth.

 

 _I'm still here old friend. Have you forgotten me? I haven't forgotten you._  
  
  
Aster the perseverant had cheated death once again.  And after all this time he was still able to hurt them. Still in a position to destroy everything Frisk had worked lived and died to create.  
  
They’d looked into him, tried to track down the minutia of his past. Aster’s record was as straight and clean as his fake sneering smile. Asgore glowered when he read of his works. Ten centuries and still playing the hero.

The mage was viewed as a promising new face in Washington. As a rising star that hardball politics had yet to corrupt. Many referred to him as a regular 'Mr. Smith in Washington'--whatever that meant. From what  Asgore could gather, it meant that humans thought highly of his moral fiber. He'd gone up for reelection the previous year-- and _won_ by a landslide.

 

It was a sickening discovery. One Asgore and the old General felt that their people should remain ignorant of. The old mage had yet to attack. He hadn’t used his pull in politics to spearhead another war, or to spread hate speech about the monsters. No. The human had remained inexplicably quiet and neutral about the whole thing.

  
Asgore and the General spent many hours trying to decipher what this meant. Surely he’d learned months earlier of the monsters’ escape from Ebbot. Yet Aster hadn't made himself know until Frisk’s death. They’d decided that could only mean one of two things.  
  
Optimistically, it meant Aster had been ignoring them-- or at least watching them quietly but still allowing them to make their unsteady peace with humanity without his direct interference.

And he's only revealed himself upon frisks death as a _warning_. A warning to Asgore  keep his hands clean. A warning that he'd be watching. This could mean that Aster was willing to overlook the past if the monsters maintained the peace. It could mean that he'd learned of frisks death and believed --as everyone in Washington seemed to think-- that Asgore had been the one to do this.     
  
For while the majority of humans were ignorant to how frisk had died, the human government was not. They knew as well as he did that the ambassador had not been taken out by a bullet. But by magic.

 

If this was the case, it meant that there was still a chance for peace. That Aster wasn’t going about as they feared to orchestrate their destruction.

 

The other explanation was far more threatening. Aster had been watching them from the beginning. Biding his time and keeping hidden while searching for a way to hurt them. To stick a knife in Asgore’s soul and twist it. That opportunity came in the form of a child. The child of the king and queen. Their hope for future peaceful relations with humanity. Their ambassador. Aster hated them, and in the years since Asgore first met the him, he learned just how far that hatred could go. If that were true, it meant that Aster had been the one to kill Frisk. Or at least orchestrated his assassination. That would explain why he hadn’t revealed himself until after Frisk’s death. No one would be looking for him. No one would expect it. Until it was too late.

 

And his sudden appearance after the tragedy was his way of taking credit for the death. Of letting Asgore know that he could still hurt him, even after all these years. He still held all the cards.

 

This was the worst case scenario. The one meant Aster was not giving them the benefit of the doubt and letting them live out their lives in peace. The one that proved Aster would never stop. He never forgave and he never forgot. And he would never be satisfied until Asgore and his people were wiped from the face of the earth.

 

Gerson and the king hoped and prayed that it was the first option. They’d spoken at length about how it was possible Aster was still around to plague them. Though it wasn’t too surprising when they considered just who they were dealing with.

  
Aster the perseverant had dusted hundreds if not thousands of their people in the twenty years he fought them during the war. And while the nature of human magic was still poorly understood, the nature of LOVE was all too familiar. LOVE was _power_. It was attained by absorbing the residual magic of fallen monsters.  And Aster had amassed more LOVE than any other man in monster history.

 

And his victims were not just common monsters. He'd killed the _ancients_. The boss monsters. The _undying_. Asgore’s lineage.

  
Immortality was an odd color on humans. For a monster, their vitality came from their magic. They could live indefinitely so long as they kept their hope. But their brand of immortality dies with them when their souls break. Then they are gone.  

 

Conversely, Humans lives are pitifully short. Their flesh and bones would fail them-- would rot away with time. but their souls would remain. Human vitality came from their powerful souls. For them immortal life came only after death.

 

But Aster never died. His face was barely lined; His body was still strong still in its prime. He looked the same as he did when Asgore last saw him. That moment before the barrier went up. The moment Humanity won.

 

Aster was an affront of nature. An abomination thriving on secondhand magic. And through the inherent power of preservence-- of the stubborn ability to survive--that he stole his extra years. It was the potential immortality of thousands of monsters that gave the human his own.  
  
  
So many lives lost. So soullessly brutal-- was Aster even human anymore?

During the war, some monsters believed that Aster was no human at all, but a demon given flesh. A destroying angel sent to punish them. And the survivors-- those who had witnessed Aster’s malice first hand-- were among the most fervent believers.

 

Asgore knew Aster. He was no demon. No angel of death. He was human. A man twisted and warped by hatred and despair into something profane. Something sinister. And to Asgore-- the knowledge of his humanity made him more terrifying than any demon could be.

 

And yet…

 

battle after battle Asgore and Aster’s paths never crossed. Other human troops assailed the king’s numbers, but Aster’s battalion skirted around them, always sending others to fight him while thinning the monster’s numbers elsewhere.

 

Why?

 

After all Aster believed the king had done to him-- to his people; Why had he never come for Asgore? The king was his real prize was he not? The object of his malice. The reason for all of this madness. Why had he hidden?  
  
  
The monster troops had a rumor among them that the reason Aster never attacked Asgore’s army was because he was afraid of the king. That the demon was too cowardly to face their magnificent leader head on.  
Asgore never dismissed this belief. The rumor brought up troop morale. It made them believe that they still had some advantage in this war. That eventually they would be victorious.  
They _needed_ something to give them courage.

 

But Asgore knew better. The reports of Asters LV from his generals was enough. Aster had no reason to fear the king any longer. He may have feared him at one point; back when he was a helpless broken child. But those days were dead, and Asgore knew that if he ever faced Aster hand to hand--he would die.

 

And while Asgore didn’t know why Aster had never challenged him He knew that cowardice had nothing to do with it.

 

The true reason became clear soon enough. It was so obvious, Asgore wondered why he didn’t realize it from the beginning.

 

Aster didn't want the king dead.

Death was honorable.

Death was peaceful.

No,

Aster had a much crueler punishment in store for the king.  
  
_The barrier._  
  
The horror of watching his people fall like hay beneath a scythe, followed by an eternity entombed with the survivors. An eternity with the knowledge that he'd lost. That Aster the perseverant had the last laugh.

 

Eternity hadn’t lasted as long as he’d thought. The barrier had fallen. Asgore's people had been freed.

 

And now?

 

Aster stood before the king once again. The two of them left alone in Asgore’s office.  And Aster, _wasn't_ laughing.  
  
  
"Hello Devil" Aster sighed.. Asgore returned the humans weary smile and peered down at the man who had brought his people to their knees.

 

And he looked _small._

 

Even after all these years. After all Aster had done, Asgore still saw the defiant child whose world he’d destroyed so many lifetimes ago.  
  
The king was numb.

  
  
"Come in old friend" Asgore sighed. He stepped aside so that Aster could enter. The human passed him coming to stand by the window.

 

How long did they stand there in silence? Minutes? _Hours_?  Asgore didn’t know. It didn't _feel_ long at all for the ancient beings. They had all the time they needed.

 

All the time in the world.

  
"It's amazing. Isn't it? How much it's all changed." Aster spoke softly, letting their silence break gently.

 

"The children walk around out there, with true wonders at their fingertips. They carry the sum of all of humanities knowledge in their pockets.” Asgore saw a wry grin form on the human’s face. “and they use it to play _FarmVille._ " Asgore breathed in nice and slow.  
  
"What is farmville?"  
  
Aster let out a quiet breathy laugh, finally turning to look up at the king.  
  
"Haven't the foggiest."  
  
Asgore glanced down at the human. Then returned his gaze to the window.

  
  
"I’ve dismissed my guards.” Asgore said softly.

 

“As did I.”

 

“Are you ready then?” Asgore asked. Aster strode leisurely towards the King’s desk. He lifted a letter opener from the drawer, running his thumb over the blade. He sighed.

 

“I suppose I am.”  
  
  
  
  
Asgore had his trident at the ready when the human turned around to face him. Aster raised his chin and widened his stance but made no other move to attack. He was still. _waiting_.  Asgore's grip tightened, and he steeled himself in the realization. Aster was letting him make the first move.

 

 

Asgore bowed his head, swallowing his regret. There was no passing up an invitation like this. He knew such mercy would not be extended twice. 

No more words.

No more hiding. 

It was time for action.

 

 The king lunged closing the space between them in half a stride. He attacked, trident swinging as white hot balls of fire shot at the man from all directions. Aster made no move to escape the blow. Not so much as a twitch of emotion crossed his face. Three heartbeats. 

One. 

Two. 

BANG! 

Asgore hit a wall. A wall of purple magic. A wave. A barrier. It hit the king like a wrecking ball. His trident went clattering as the breath was smashed from his lungs. The world tipped. His head ached. and the king found himself staring up at the ceiling as it spun above him like a whirligig.

 

A face filled Asgore’s view. Aster stood over him, eyes aflame with magic. Expression blank. Asgore jerked straining to reach his trident. He could not lift so much as an arm to it. The magic pressed down on him, that wall of crackling power pinning him to the ground as he struggled and fought in vain to break free. Aster's head tilted to one side.  
  
Asgore stopped struggling, letting the breath hiss out of his lungs. Then his face grew blank. Emotionless to mirror the one peering down at him. 

So. This was his lot was it?  This is how long the king of monsters-- their champion could last against his old enemy. He had been aware of this from the beginning. But the confirmation was no less sobering.  One turn. One round.  one attack, given as charity and Asgore was already defeated. 

 

Asgore would not beg. He'd decided this early on. If it ever came to a battle, he would bow out with grace.  He would not prolong the inevitable, nor would he  attempt to reason with his captor.

 

He was a king. And kings do not beg. For the sake of their people, kings live breathe and die with their dignity. With honor. 

  
  
The man stepped up onto the King's chest. One foot. then another glowing purple eyes never leaving the king's. never dropping that calm empty expression. The human’s weight wasn’t painful. And with the pressure of his magic already pressing down on him, Asgore barely registered the difference.

 

Without a word aster lowered himself until he was kneeling on the king's chest hands in his lap. Head cocked in a look of contemplation. Then he laughed softly.  
  
  
"We're just a pair of old relics now. Aren't we devil?" His words came soft little more than a whisper. Asgore said nothing.  
  
Aster smiled softly. And the king thought he looked almost mournful. Though that may have been wishful thinking. Aster lifted the letter opener testing its sharpness against the blunt of his hand. His gaze returned to the king.

  
  
"Why didn't you kill me?" Aster whispered.

 

Asgore said nothing. He closed his eyes listening as the smaller being’s breathing grew heavier. The cool metal of the knife pressed against the warm flesh beneath Asgore's beard. 

 

“ _Answer_ me” Aster hissed, voice never rising above a whisper. Asgore took a breath. 

  
  
"You were just a boy. a child."  
  
A soft breathy laugh escaped the human. The blade pressed down harder.  
  
"And when has _that_ ever stopped you Devil?" Aster hissed. The blade had drawn blood now, a tiny amount glinting against the cool metal. “Tell me the truth.” The command came out just as quiet as the rest. But some emotion flickered behind it. The ghost of an ancient pain.

 

Asgore let out a sigh opening his eyes. The man had his fisted hands pressed into the carpeting on either side of the king's great head. His face now beaded with sweat less than a foot from Asgore’s.

 

Asgore let the air out of his lungs, and the human’s expression twitched as the warm air puffed into his face. The king tried to conjure up the will to hate him. The rage he’d felt after Frisk’s death. The wrath that had nearly killed Charlotte Fox. But he could not. He was just too _tired_.  
  
"You said it yourself little warrior" asgore whispered, turning his face away.  "There was nothing I could have done to you. _You were already dead_."  
  
Asgore shut his eyes peacefully and waited for the blow. For the human to end him-- just as he always had wanted. But it didn’t come. And Asgore felt the cold metal leave his neck. The human sat up, cold eyes going far away again. Asgore smiled wearily.  
  
"Not killing me today old friend?"  
  
Aster's sharp eyes dropped to the king. Something writhed behind the human’s mask of indifference. Something Asgore recognized. After a moment, the human let out another breathy laugh and stood, stepping off the king.  
  
"Men don't kill with knives anymore, Devil" the human mused. _"We kill with **words**."_  
  
All at once the magic was gone. The force holding Asgore down vanished. Asgore took a moment just to breathe before he too rose. The pair stared at one another as the implication sank in.

 

They were at an impasse. Asgore had been ready to die. After everything he'd lost. Everything he'd seen--he almost welcomed it. Perhaps his death would have been enough to satisfy the old mage. Maybe it would have been enough. But no.  It seemed that the human was not ready to kill him. He had something more in mind--as always.

 

Asgore's pocket vibrated drawing two pairs of eyes. Aster bit his lip, turning away to wipe the blood from the knife.The king checked his phone. Two missed calls and a text from Alphys.  
  
*CHARLOTTE IS HERE! CALL ME!!!  
  
The panic flashed across Asgore's face before he could hide it. The kingly mask of pride blanched, breaking as the memory of Frisk’s lifeless body filled his mind. Asgore swallowed thickly. Was this an option one scenario or an option two? Had Aster intended to protect Asgore’s daughter and others like her? Or had he--

 

"Bad news?" Aster asked. Asgore lifted his gaze to find the man smiling up at him hands in his pockets. _Aster couldn’t find out about her. Not ever._ Asgore couldn’t bury another. _He couldn’t._ The king squared his shoulders slipping the phone into his pocket.

  
  
"FarmVille."  He stated evenly. The humans smile widened. He patted Asgore’s arm.  
  
"I suppose I’ll see you at the peace summit Devil." He mused, turning to leave. “Until next time then.”  
  
Asgore watched the man brush himself off and step out of the room. The king heard Aster whistling a merry tune all the way down the hall, until he was gone. Asgore stood there for a full minute trying to calm his breathing. Then slowly, he brought out his phone and pressed redial.  

 


	34. Chapter 24: Chara and the King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> Soliloquous feels coming your way. It had to be done. There will be more laughs and interaction in the next chapter. Pinky promise. 
> 
> @ Random: *smiles*
> 
> @ ThrowawaySpecificallyForThisComment: The name anagram was only fitting. I couldn’t resist. 
> 
> @ Malik_likeswaffles: yep. He did a thing.  
> @ Fair point. I did follow the tangent out in my rough draft. I just forced half of it to come in later so it wouldn’t interrupt the flow of the story. I didn’t think you guys appreciated so many cliffhangers not resolving in a timely way. 
> 
> As for the interludes, yeah, I hear ya. Originally I was going to do the majority of this from Charlotte’s perspective and keep other character’s perspectives to the interlude chapters. But each interlude turned out to be so long that I had to split them up into separate chapters. I may need to rethink my format for perspective change. 
> 
> Also, shame on you for overlooking the pun that was practically gift wrapped for you. ;)
> 
> I INTERrupted the plot with my LUDE tangents. ;D
> 
>  
> 
> ##################################################

 

Chapter 24: Chara and the King

 

 

 

Charlotte took stock of her situation. She was sitting in a high tech military laboratory next to a stygmoloch in a lab coat. She was there because she’d had a seizure and bashed her head and side repeatedly into the ground while a US senator tried to hold her steady and talk her through it. She was dizzy and her head throbbed so badly she was sure she had a mild concussion. To top it all off, the back of her rats nest hair was sticky with a mixture of sweat, blood and blue raspberry Popsicle.

  
  
Yet despite all the impossible events that had brought her to this point, there was one her hazy mind couldn’t seem to parse. A single, dismal fact that left her heart hammering with trepidation.

  
_Asgore knew she was there._

 

Red had gone. Despite all her venom and talk, she always seemed to disappear when she knew Asgore was around.  She would slip off to some remote little corner of Charlotte’s consciousness. With the exception of that one instance when she’d attacked him, Red avoided any mention of him like the plague. And no amount of calling or coaxing would make her come out. Charlotte was numb. Did that mean Red was afraid too?

 

Charlotte stared at the heavy lab doors, head swimming. He could walk in at any moment. Just step through those doors and be suddenly overwhelmingly _there_. Charlotte twisted the hem of her shirt, wringing it between her hands. How was she supposed to feel about this? She had already made up her mind that she would try and meet with the king again. But…

The memory of Asgore ripping apart the room in search of her rose to the forefront of her mind. Charlotte felt a sudden urge to vomit, her knees beginning to knock together. The urge to _run_. Would Alphys try and stop if she just took off? Was she even _allowed_ to leave anymore? _Was she a prisoner?_

 

Charlotte cast a nervous glance towards the doctor. Alphys was still standing in the doorway, clawed hands wringing nervously as she met the human’s gaze. She seemed to be at a loss for what to do or say at this point so she smiled uncomfortably. Charlotte swallowed down the wave of nausea.

_Calm down. This is what you wanted isn’t it?_

_Isn’t it…?_

  
_No time. She had no time._ Asgore could walk in on her at any moment. Charlotte realized that she had to make up her mind fast. The human shoved down her fears and tried to think logically about the situation. This wasn’t like before. Several people—including Jack— knew where she was. She hadn’t snuck in under false pretenses this time around; she’d been brought here. _Safe_. _Invited_. She had accepted the hospitality of one of the royal guards.

No sneaking. No deception. And several credible sources who would speak up if she went missing. Charlotte wrapped herself around with these reassurances. Everything was going to be okay. If there was ever a safer more appropriate time to meet with the king it was now. There were fewer risks. Fewer ways this could all go south. Logically speaking, the conditions where ideal for what she wanted to do.  But even so…

  
Was she really ready to see him? Did she have the courage to meet him again? Even under these less frightening circumstances? Charlotte realized that her answer depended completely on _which_ Asgore she’d have to meet.  
  
  
It was strange. Charlotte felt like there were multiple versions of the king—each one’s personality and behavior unique and almost contradictory to one another. She knew this was silly. She knew there was only one Asgore. The real problem was that Charlotte did not know which one was really _him_. Technically they were all him. Or rather, different parts of him. Different facets of what made Asgore— _Asgore_. The human that she really didn’t know him at all. Did she?

So what kind of man would be coming for her? Which one did she need to _believe_ in?

 

There was Asgore the murderer.  Asgore the _madman_. The roaring towering nightmare that had nearly impaled her on his trident. That Asgore terrified her. He had sacrificed six (possibly seven) children in order to free his people from bondage. Did the ends justify the means? Charlotte felt sick even considering it. To even think for a moment that some greater good could validate hurting an innocent child. No. The king was a veritable powerhouse of violent rage. One that could have snuffed out Charlotte’s life as easily as crushing a bug. And with his apparent sense of morality, the morality that justified such horrors—would he even think twice about eliminating her if she proved to be a threat?

This was the version of Asgore that would do anything get what he wanted. A man Charlotte could easily see declaring war on humanity—and _winning_.  He was the monster everyone feared he was. Some kind of ancient devil that had been unleashed on an unsuspecting world. Now it seemed he was just biding his time before the strike. And his current impotency—his inexplicable submission, felt little more than a ticking bomb that could go off the moment it no longer served his purpose. 

 _This_ was the Asgore that Charlotte met that afternoon in the library. And Charlotte never ever wanted to see that man again.

 

But then there was another Asgore, a kinder softer version. The one she met that night on the street. He was a grave, soft-spoken monster of few words. The Asgore that had bid her to feel welcome and comfortable among his people. Detached kindness—that’s what it was. A well-meant tolerance of her kind’s existence and a desire to keep the peace.  He was kind yes—not because that’s how he actually _felt_ but because that’s how he thought he was _supposed_ to behave. Social niceties. Obligation. That’s how he regarded humans. They were something to be handled delicately and held at arm’s length. And from the way humans had treated his kind—Charlotte felt like his attitude was far more forgiving than perhaps they deserved. She feared this Asgore less, because she felt she could understand and sympathize with him a little more. He didn’t seem particularly good. But he wasn’t necessarily _bad_ either. He just— _was_.  The king was unassuming. Compliant. Willing to bend over backwards to keep the peace with a people that neither trusted nor appreciated his humility. He was the sad Asgore—the one Charlotte felt sorry for.

 

Then there was the quiet Asgore. The hungry Asgore. This was the one that wanted to touch her. That gaping, staring, pouncing, grabbing, enigma that knew her name. And apparently stalked her now.  This was the Asgore that for whatever reason _wanted_ something from her.  Charlotte didn’t know how to feel about this one. How could something so powerful and terrifying be so vulnerable and fragile at the same time? His behavior was erratic—confusing. And it made the human uneasy. Mostly because he elicited both terror and sympathy simultaneously.  She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to run _from_ him or run _to_ him. All of her instincts of self-preservation screamed _predator_. _Dangerous_. _Keep away_. Charlotte didn’t know what made the king _desire_ her with such intensity. He didn’t even _know_ her. But the rational part of her brain insisted that it could not be for anything _good_.

 

But there was something else. Charlotte had always been three parts emotion and only one part brain so to speak. She was always more likely to follow her intuition rather than what logically made sense. And that emotional side of her, the instinctive part of her that trusted easily, and loved much too deeply, told her that this was more than just _spite_. It told her that she should trust the king. That somehow Asgore _needed_ her trust. Despite the fact that such a thing was ridiculous. She was a stranger. Why should the way one small inconsequential human felt about him be so important? She was _nobody_. There were literally millions of other people just like her dotting the globe. Some of them sympathized with him. Some hated him. Some didn’t know what to think. So why did how she felt matter at all to him? Why would he _need_ her kindness? Her sympathy? She was _nothing_. Her opinions didn’t matter one way or another.

But the feeling didn’t go away. The feeling that she had to come back. To let him know that everything was going to be okay. To tell him that she didn’t _hate_ him. She understood this part of him the least. But she knew that she would never be satisfied until she found out why.

 

That should have been it. Those were all the sides of Asgore Charlotte had seen. Everything she knew of him.

 And yet…

_There was something else._

Every night since her run in with Asgore, the human had been plagued with nightmares. Horrible dreams of being trapped in that library again, as the king raged after her. There were nightmares of sans coming back for her. Abducting her.—of having her soul ripped out of her chest and devoured before her eyes by a sinister grinning skull. There were times she woke up in a cold sweat, convinced there was someone in the room with her. That Sans had just _appeared_ in that way of his and had changed his mind about letting her live. But he never was. She’d had nightmares of what she thought would happen when Asgore finally did track her down. When he finally had her where right where he wanted her.

 

But every time this happened. Every time he caught her up in those powerful paws—the dream would shift. And in an instant, he would _change_. Suddenly, they were somewhere else. Somewhere unfamiliar. And the king wouldn’t be _the king_ anymore. He would become something new. A person she’d never met in reality, and had no reason to believe existed at all. 

This imaginary Asgore wasn’t seething with concealed anger. He wasn’t that quiet, grave presence full of sighs and unspoken regret.

 

He was _warm_. Affectionate. _Inviting_. He would chuckle and squeeze her as if everything she said was absolutely adorable. He would catch her up in his arms and spin her around. He would tease her, tickle her, let her yank on his beard, all the while grinning with twinkling eyes. Real mirth. Genuine kindness. Not that detached melancholy brand kindness he’d displayed that night on the street.  This was deeper than that. _Joyful_. As if centuries—entire _lifetimes_ of happiness were condensed into every moment he spent with her.

 

And for whatever reason Charlotte wasn’t afraid. She would boss him around, throw little fits and sometimes even take a swing at him. But she never worried that her brashness would anger him. Anger simply _wasn’t_ in his nature. Charlotte adored him, idolized everything he said and did. She wanted to stay with him, with a longing and intensity she’d never felt for anyone or anything. She wanted to… _save_ him? From what?  The king wasn’t in any danger.

 The dreams made no sense. And the intense adoration she felt during them troubled her. He’d never done anything to merit such hero worship. All he’d done was frighten her and almost hurt her. Was she losing her mind? Did she have Stockholm syndrome?

Perhaps that was it.  She never felt that way about him when she was _awake_. In fact she always awoke filled with an inexplicable sense of bitterness. A cold cynicism towards everyone and everything— _especially_ the king. Why did she feel this way? The sensation would pass after a few moments, but Charlotte could still feel that distant ache. The feeling that she had been betrayed; had been robbed of something important.

 

The Asgore in her dreams didn’t exist. She knew that.  She knew it was likely her screwed up brain short circuiting. Some kind of psychological nonsense she wouldn’t understand.  But the imaginary Asgore felt just as real as any other persona she’d come to associate with the king. And part of her still expected to see that same man step through the door.

 _Bollocks_.

 _She was a friggin basket case. Wasn’t she?_  
  
  
Which version of the king was real? Which would she have to face in the end?

 

“U-um… Do you still want me to...w-well—“

The voice startled Charlotte from her reverie and she spun. Alphys was still standing there. Bollocks. How had she forgotten about her? She’d been so focused inward she hadn’t even noticed how anxious her silence was making the timid doctor. The doctor stood a foot or so away, a hand raised hesitantly—almost close enough to pat her on the back. She looked to be at just as much of a loss for words as Charlotte felt. Charlotte took a deep breath, focusing in on the matter at hand.  
  
"Is Asgore…Is he on his way here _now_?" Charlotte asked.  Alphys shook her head quickly, shoulders coming up.  
  
"H-he said he had a meeting. Couldn’t get away.”   
  
Charlotte ran a hand through her sticky hair, wincing at flecks of dried blood the action shook free. She felt a small wave of relief. He wasn’t coming. At least not right then he wasn’t. Charlotte gnawed on her lower lip. This was…good—right? It meant she had time to think. Time to make up her mind before she had to face him. She could figure this out. Charlotte eyed the doctor.  
  
"Can you please- could you tell me what he said to you? When you told him about me." Charlotte asked meekly. Alphys sucked in her cheeks. She moaned.  
  
"I am so _fired_ for this..."

 

 Charlotte’s head came up. Alphys wasn’t supposed to tell her that Asgore knew she was there, and she clearly wasn’t supposed to reveal that they’d been researching her either. But thanks to her snooping Charlotte had riddled it out anyway. Charlotte’s heart sank. Had her stubbornness just cost this poor monster her _livelihood_? Would she be in trouble for even _talking_ to her about this? Charlotte opened her mouth, an apology already forming on her tongue, but the doctor spoke again, and the human fell silent.  

 

"I called him— told him that you had been injured and that one of the guards had brought you up for medical care." Alphys sighed, sinking into a chair near Charlotte’s. “He was…well, really upset…” she admitted.  A cold hand of fear squeezed around charlottes heart and she thought she might faint. _Upset. He was upset with her._

“What did he tell you to _do_ with me?” Charlotte muttered. She knew that if it was something particularly bad, the doctor probably wouldn’t tell her. And well, if it _was_ something bad—Charlotte wasn’t even sure if she _wanted_ to know.  The doctor rubbed her temples, waving a dismissive hand.  
  
"He didn’t say all that much... He just said to treat you. You know attend to all of your medical needs and to call him if there was any change.” Alphys shrugged. "He also told me that if you asked for anything, I should see to it that you got it." Charlotte frowned.  
  
"That's…. _all_?"  
  
"That's all."

  
The human stared. That made no sense. He was clearly upset with her, but he still insisted that she get medical attention? Not only that but he'd made sure to specify that she should be denied nothing.

What did _that_ mean?

Was this some kind of _ploy_? Take care of her and keep her happy so she doesn’t realize that she’s not allowed to leave? That she’s a _prisoner_? That didn’t seem right either. If they wanted to arrest her, they could have just done it couldn’t they? The king had more than enough evidence against her to do it. Why would he need to keep her happy? Charlotte chewed her lower lip.

  
" Alphys…If I asked you to let me leave… and told you to make sure that nobody stopped me or tried to follow— _would you do it?"_

Alphys’ snout wrinkled, and she tilted her head.

 

“Uh… yeah? If you want to go you can. I-I mean you _shouldn’t_ , not really… You’re kind of beat up and all…But…” the dinosaur shrugged again.  
  
  
  
Charlotte rolled this around in her mind. Anger then kindness. Deception followed by curtesy. _None_ of this rang true with what she already knew about the king. None of this clicked. If he didn’t want to arrest her or bring her in for questioning then what? What did the king _want_ from her? What was his motive? Who _was_ Asgore Dreemurr? Charlotte lowered her gaze.

She was probably going to regret this…  
  
"Dr Alphys. Could you call him again please?" Charlotte asked softly. The dinosaur blinked. Then she nodded to herself.

  
"R-right. You’re right... I should call him." Alphys began tapping his number into her phone, mumbling to herself distractedly. "He should know about...about..." the dinosaur trailed off, raising her brows at the human.  
  
Charlotte had her hand held out. Lips pressed into a tight line. The intent clear. Alphys hesitated but handed it over. The human then lifted it to her ear. The phone rang only once before a click. Then a great sonorous voice rumbled out, urgent and deep. Charlotte felt a chill.

 

“What is it? What’s happened doctor? Is she alright? Did she say something to you? Did she start seizing again? I can—“  
  
  
  
"H-hi..." Charlotte squeaked out, her voice sounding tiny and shill in comparison. King fell silent. Charlotte felt her heart thumping hard in her chest, seeming to grow louder as the silence dragged on.

 _Bollocks_.

Why wasn’t he saying anything? Charlotte realized she should have identified herself the moment he picked up the phone—but there hadn’t been time. The king had just started talking. Did he think she’d been trying to trick him? Charlotte opened and closed her mouth several times. It was as if she’d suddenly forgotten how to form proper words. Nothing she could think of seemed appropriate. What were you even supposed to _say_ to a king?

So Charlotte said nothing.

And on the other end of the line, Asgore said nothing.

_Thump.Thump.Thump._

_This was a bad idea…_   Charlotte began to shake. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

 Her nerves grew shakier with every passing moment of silence. Was he angry now? Too enraged or disgusted to speak to her?  
  
Charlotte listened. It was so quiet. Had he hung up on her altogether? The human was about to hang up when the king’s voice finally came.

He spoke. Care, gentle, _soft_. Almost as if he thought a heavy gust might bowl her off her feet or cause her to crumble and blow away with it. He spoke back to her, his voice little more than a whisper.  
  
"Hi..."  
  
A lump formed in Charlotte's throat. She lowered herself slowly back into Dr Alphys' chair. The king’s greeting hung there for a moment, until the silence began to grow unbearable again. Should she say something? Apologize? It couldn’t hurt could it? Yet Charlotte said nothing. She couldn't find the words. The king too was quiet.  It was as if the silence was something holy, and to break it would be sacrilege. _Dangerous_. Wrong.  
  
"Miss Fox." Asgore whispered. Charlotte stiffened, white knuckles wrapped tight around the phone as she listened. "You do not have to...to sneak around. You can come back... _Anytime_ you want...it’s...it's alright…”  
  
Charlotte said nothing.

 _Why was he doing this_ …?

 

"And you don’t…you don’t have to be _afraid_ …of… me…” He spoke again, so quietly Charlotte wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it.

 “When you feel more comfortable... _please_ , don't be afraid to seek me out. I...I’m not angry with you… you’re a-always welcome…” The king hesitated. “That is to say… if you… _wanted_ to see me again…”

  
Charlotte stared at a rip on the knee of her jeans. Her arm wrapped tight around her legs. Nothing made sense. It was as if he was _afraid_ of her. No- that wasn't it. It was more like he was afraid that he would frighten her away again, if he wasn’t careful.

  
  
  
Charlotte tried to wrap her mind around this. When she'd escaped Charlotte had been terrified that he would track her down. When he didn't she assumed that he didn't know how to find her. But he had. And clearly he wanted her. She could feel the hunger. The desperation in his carefully controlled tones.  
  
He could have come for her at any time. Could have ordered her arrest and forced her to return. Or even...simply... _taken_ her. But he didn't.  
  
Perhaps that meant he was doing what Charlotte had been doing from the beginning. Waiting for _her_ to come to _him_.  The king was letting her approach him of her own free will, rather than forcing her to do what he wanted. Charlotte's head swam.

 

Why was Asgore being so kind? He didn’t have to be. Charlotte was just some dumb kid that broke into his office and cut him.

Nobody would blame him for being angry. She'd trespassed, assaulted him—hell, in most countries that would have been more than enough to have her executed. She'd been on his land in his office doing who knows what during a time when paranoia of another attack was as high as ever. As far as anyone was concerned the king could do whatever he wanted with her.  
  
  
So why then, was he afraid of scaring her off? Why was he going to such great lengths to make sure she was comfortable? Why was he giving her the choice? It didn't _matter_ if she was comfortable or not. It didn’t matter if she _wanted_ to come to him.  
  
Of all the terrifying scenarios she'd played out in her mind, of all the things the king could have done to her.  
  
  
Was he really choosing to let her go?  
  
Choosing to give her medical care when she was hurt? Choosing to let a possible threat to him walk free? Choosing to show mercy to a stranger that had only caused him pain? That had called him a murderer? That had stolen from him?  
  
The king could have done _anything_ he wanted with her.

 

And he chose _kindness_.  
  
  
“T-thank you…” Charlotte breathed.

Charlotte wasn't too familiar with the meanings of all the grunts and growls monsters made. But the one that rumbled out from the king was so warm, so rich that it was unmistakably for anything but approbation. Charlotte felt the tension leave her shoulders, like sinking into a warm bath.

_Thank you mother, for teaching me to watch my p’s and q’s._

  
  
"Pr- Miss Fox," the king said softly. "I’m sorry. I need to go into the meeting now."  
  
"O-oh…" Charlotte whispered. Another gentle rumble.  
  
"Please tell Dr Alphys thank you for me and. Let her know she isn’t in any trouble for letting the Tem out of the bag." Humor leaked into the king's gentle whisper. Charlotte felt a thrill at it. "Can you do this for me little one..?"  
  
"O-Okay…" She peeped.  
  
"Thank you. Goodbye." He whispered. Then he hung up.  
  
"Bye..." She whispered hoarsely to the empty line. Then slowly lowered the phone.  
Alphys was watching her close, worriedly gnawing on her lower lip. Charlotte turned towards her.  
  
"Everything....everything is okay doctor…” Charlotte muttered. “He says you're not in any trouble."  
  
“Oh thank goodness…” Alphys breathed out a sigh of relief shoulders sagging. “I-I thought I really screwed up this time…”  Charlotte drew her knees up beneath her chin, staring at her shoes.

  
"He wasn't even angry at you Alphys, he was really nice." Charlotte pressed her face into her hands as an embarrassing sniffle escaping her. "So you don't have to be scared anymore…" Charlotte curled in on herself shoulders shaking with tears. Alphys’ head came up, and she frowned uncertainly at the human.

 

“C-charlotte? Are you alright?” She laid a clawed hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. The human hiccupped.

 

 “Everything is wonderful Alphys…” Charlotte whispered. Her hand rose up and patted the doctor’s comfortingly.  “you were really worried…"  
  
Charlotte let it all out. She couldn't remember a time it felt so good to cry.


	35. Chapter 25: Cavities

 

**AN:**

#### @eJ121: Yeah, there’s  a lot of sympathetic characters in this who do terrible things. Like…most of the cast in fact. XD

#### As for the sudden disappearance of a certain bold text peanut gallery… perhaps her lack of response is a response in in of itself…

#### As for the fast update thing, I feel like I’ve explained this one a lot, but I’ll see what I can do. See I’m a student during the fall and winter, and because of m major I’m used to heavy workloads and churning out papers and theses on a regular basis. But in the summer, I work as a security officer at an art museum.  So I get long stretches of the day where I have nothing to do but stare at pretty paintings and think about stories. Each shift I get about two hours working control (you know, like watching the cameras alone in a tiny room all five nights at freddy’s style) And I get closer to six hours on nights when I work the graveyard shift. The Sargent doesn’t like us watching movies or surfing the internet in control, but we can do homework, read or write.

#### Soooo I’ve pretty much got a 2-4 hour block everyday where I have nothing better to do than type out silly stories on my phone. Basically this story is my entertainment when I’m stuck in the control room and the other guards are busy watching the patrons ~~and punching smart mouthed teenagers.~~

#### 

#### Later that night after I get home and go to bed, I usually take like, half an hour to an hour to reread my phone drabbles and do revisions. I usually update before I go to sleep. It’s a pretty chill system for getting me through the most boring parts of my job. But that’s okay. I’ve enjoyed this happy distraction. ;)

#### @ThrowawaySpecificallyForThisComment: Well that’s good (I hope) don’t have a heart attack and die from all the palpitations though. I’m waaay to poor for a lawsuit. ;)

 

**@[K4ll3x](http://archiveofourown.org/users/K4ll3x/pseuds/K4ll3x): *scoots over* be my guest. **

 

####################################################################################

 

 

 

Chapter 25: Cavities

 

 

 

 

 

“Y-you sure you don’t need any help?” Alphys called, her voice muffled slightly by the bathroom door and the spray of the shower.

 

“No, I’m alright! Thank you!” Charlotte called back. The doctor had been kind enough to let the human use her bathroom to rinse the blood and sugar from her scalp. Charlotte was grateful for the gesture. After her phone call with Asgore, she had needed a moment to collect herself, and the familiar comfort of a steaming hot shower was definitely a step in the right direction.

 

If only the Stygimoloch outside the door felt the same way…

 

“o-okay! B-but If you f-feel dizzy tell me!” Alphys called. She’d been out there fretting from the moment Charlotte asked if she could pop in the shower. And for probably the twelfth time, Charlotte called back to reassure her.

 

“I’m fine!”

The human carefully worked her fingers through her wet soapy hair, trying to untangle the mess of rat’s nests that had formed. It was slow going, but she didn’t mind. The water felt nice.

 

“Seriously, b-be careful! A human can drown in less than an inch of water!” Alphys pressed. The human smiled. She’d rifled through the doctor’s things, nearly gotten her into trouble with her boss, and had an emotional breakdown in the middle of her office. As far as Charlotte was considered, this monster should have been fed up with her by now for being such a pain.

Yet in spite of this, Alphys still seemed determined to help in any way she could and Charlotte wondered how she was lucky enough to cross paths with so many kind forgiving people.  Charlotte frowned slightly.

 _More than just lucky._ She thought. Compared to how disastrous things might have been, Charlotte was coming up roses all around. She had been so afraid for so long about coming back. And all this time, the king had been _worried_ about her. Maybe even _regretful_ about how he’d acted. He’d been _kind_.  Charlotte had no explanation for his remarkable tolerance of her antics but she wasn’t about to complain. She’d dodged a major bullet and while she still wasn’t sure how she felt about the king, the idea that he was willing to give her space to figure it out was an absolute godsend. Truth be told she doubted she’d ever be able to approach the monster king without her knees banging together. But approaching him—at some point—definitely felt less daunting now that she knew he wasn’t angry with her. At least, not angry enough to hurt her, she hoped.

Charlotte sighed. Red hadn’t come back. She had gone off and hidden somewhere deep in the back of Charlotte’s consciousness. And while Charlotte could still feel her distant presence, it was clear after several vain attempts to rouse her that the magic wanted to be left alone.

 

There was a sudden frantic banging from behind the door. Charlotte startled nearly slipping on the wet tile.

 

“C-CHARLOTTE!?” Alphys squawked.

 

“Y-yes?” Charlotte called back once she’d regained her footing. The banging stopped immediately.

 

“Oh…” Alphys trailed off.  There was a pause. Charlotte turned off the water.

 

“Is everything okay doctor?” she called. There was a shuffling sound from the other side of the door.

 

 “Um. Nothing. Y-you didn’t say anything about the drowning thing…a-and you went quiet for a while…”

 

“Sorry! I’m still alive!” Charlotte called back, unable to keep the smile out of her voice.  “I’ll come out now!”

The doctor made a noise of relief.

 

“I’ll g-get everything set up for you! T-there’s a clean towel under the sink!”

“Kay! Thanks!” Charlotte located the stack of clean towels and gratefully unfolded one.

 

The thin pink towel was almost as tall as Charlotte was and featured a life size image of an anime cat girl in a very small bikini. Charlotte stared. She set the towel aside and reached for another. The next one was as bad as the first, featuring a waifish looking anime boy in a speedo. Charlotte flushed deeply and refolded it quickly. She settled for the lesser of two evils and dried off with the pink one. Somehow she’d managed to fold up the blue towel in such a way that the top fold featured only the boy’s winking face. Charlotte found her eyes darting to it every couple of seconds. His eyes that were draw in such a way that no matter what angle you saw them from, they appeared to be staring back at the viewer. Charlotte shuddered. Finally she ended up putting the soap dish over his face so she could get dressed in peace.

 

The human had always been fairly innocent, but even she could recognize that toweling off your wet body with the image of a scantily clad figure was meant to be bawdy. She tried to pat the furious flush from her cheeks, clapping them with both her hands. she studied herself in the mirror.

 

Did Alphys _get_ that the towels were supposed to be erotic? She wasn’t human—so maybe she _didn’t_. Upon discovering (much to the human’s alarm) that Alphys had a toilet seat cover that vibrated when you sat on it which   _also_ featured the bishie boy’s smoldering face--she decided that some questions were better left unanswered.

 

_Nooooone of my business…._

 

When Charlotte emerged from the bathroom she found Alphys perched before a laptop screen reading through some WebMD wikis.

“Thank you for letting me use your shower.” Charlotte said. The dinosaur jolted slightly (was she always this jumpy?) and turned to smile toothily at the human.

 

“N-no problem!” she waved an inviting claw. “Come, l-lay down and we can get started!”

 

Charlotte obliged, settling down on the cool metal of the examination table. Alphys glanced up and frowned.

“N-no no, not there. O-on the floor over there.” She pointed to an area where all the furniture had been moved back, leaving a big open space on the floor. “I-I’ve got it all set up for you. Go ahead.”

Charlotte raised a brow but obliged heading over. The tile had been swept clean and there was a large pillow waiting for her. The human propped the pillow behind her head and laid down.

 

“Okay. Now what?” Charlotte asked. The doctor approached, eyes glued to the screen of her tablet.

 

“N-now… um, roll over onto your left side.” Alphys ordered. Charlotte obeyed, peering up at the doctor. “Okay…Okay…so…Oh! Do you have anything in your mouth?” She asked. Charlotte’s brows drew together in bemusement.

“No ma’am...?”

 

“G-good! D-don’t put anything in your mouth!” Alphys nodded. “Now…um… h-hold still while I look for your government issued identification card…” The Stygimoloch stooped down and began patting down Charlotte’s pockets, a look of determination on her face. The human bit the inside of her cheek.

 

“Um…doctor? I’m uh…I’m not having the seizure _right now_ …” Charlotte muttered. The doctor froze, one hand poised over Charlotte’s right pocket. “It um… it happened a couple hours ago…”

 

“Uh….” Alphys picked up her tablet again and squinted at the text on the page. Her face went red.

 

“O-Oh! Of course! I knew that…” she coughed, forcing a smile. “You just k-keep…keep relaxing there…I just need to double check something…” The dinosaur clambered to her feet and hid her face behind the tablet screen, finger scrolling urgently through the page after page. Charlotte sat up, blinking.

 

Why was Alphys wasting her time trying to find human solutions for this? Charlotte understood that the doctor likely wouldn’t have been able to explain the cause of the seizures or provide any permanent solution. But she’d seen healing magic before, and she knew that it could definitely help the giant bloody knob on the back of her skull, and the scrapes and bruises she’s sustained. The human coughed politely into her fist, gaining Alphys attention.

 

“I know this is probably a dumb question. But uh, is there…any particular reason you don’t just, you know…use magic to heal me?”

The doctors eyes grew round and she threw up her clawed hands, waving them frantically.

 

“N-no no no! O-of course I won’t use magic on you!” she squawked hurriedly. “I-I wouldn’t do that!”

Charlotte blinked slowly, drawing in her chin. The doctor’s eyes darted as she forced a smile holding up her hands submissively.

“I-I would _n-never_ use magic on a h-human! I-I promise!”

 

“But…Why not?” the human asked, frowning slightly. “I mean… I get if you don’t want to… _waste_ it o-or something. I guess I just figured it would be a good idea…”

 

It was the doctor’s turn to stare now. Her mouth fell slightly open and she peered at Charlotte if she’d never seen anything like her before.

 

“W-wait…Are you saying you _want_ me to use m-magic on you?” Alphys asked slowly. Charlotte who was now thoroughly confused merely shrugged in response. “A-and you’d…you trust me en-n-nough to let me?”

 

“You’re a doctor. Isn’t…that what you _do_?” Charlotte shrugged again. The doctor gaped.

 

“Well…yes. B-but…I’m really not allowed t-to… _nobody_ here is supposed to use magic around the humans here u-unless it’s absolutely necessary…” Alphys explained. “You g-get…d-distressed…”

 

Charlotte shook her head, as the information finally clicked. The monsters weren’t supposed to use magic on or around the government humans because they were worried (probably from past mistakes) that the humans would respond negatively. Charlotte thought back to the first time she’d experienced magic. It had been pretty frightening, having her soul pulled from her chest. Granted it hadn’t been a particularly _friendly_ encounter to begin with, but still—even if the intentions were innocent, she could see how monsters casually using magic on their political visitors might not be the best idea. The human patted Alphys’ arm.

 

“Listen, if you’ll get in trouble or something then you don’t have to, but I honestly don’t mind if you use your magic on me. Especially if it makes everything easier on you and…everything.” She forced a smile she hoped was reassuring. “I mean, you’re a doctor. I-I get that. You’re here to help. I know you’re not going to just start blasting holes into my soul or something…a-and I’ve had healing magic done on me before, s-so I know that it really does help…”

 

The doctor chewed her lower lip, studying the human’s face. Then she let out a low sigh.

 

“Oh thank goodness…” with a casual flick of the doctor’s wrist Charlotte felt a gentle tugging sensation on her soul. She had a slight twitch of panic—she’d expected the doctor to give her some kind of healing food or a pill—like the monster candy. More tugging, Charlotte could feel her soul beginning to emerge. For the doctor’s sake as well as her own, she forced her anxiety it down, and slapped on a tight lipped smile. This wasn’t like before with Sans. It wasn’t a fight. The doctor was just trying to help…

A familiar green glow filled the area and soon the tiny emerald green soul was floating before them. The doctor let out a choked gasp causing Charlotte to jump. Alphys swore stepping closer to examine the heart.

“Holy shit…” she breathed, the color draining from her face. Charlotte followed the doctor’s horrified gaze. When she saw what lay at the center of her soul, Charlotte felt hot bile rising in the back of her throat.

_Holy shit was right…_

There was a _crack_ in her soul. A wide sliver that started at the middle of her soul and splintered out almost all the way through. The doctor took in a horrified breath, hands rising gently up beneath the soul as she gaped. The edges of matter surrounding the cracks had blackened, almost like it was rotting. There were portions of the crack that had taken on a slight reddish hue—like the color of an over ripened cherry. Charlotte stared, feeling her legs starting to give out beneath her from the shock. All at once she felt something warm press gently into the back of her body and she squeaked wheeling around to see what was touching her. She could still feel the the soft pressure, and the sensation of something slowly lifting her into the air, and she jerked in panic when her feet no longer touched the ground.  But her frantic searching eyes saw nothing.

 

“S-sorry…” Alphys whispered. “I-I should have warned you…”

Charlotte turned to find that the doctor had taken her soul into her clawed hands and was now examining it gravely. Charlotte panted, trying to reposition herself in the air. When she realized this random sensation was merely the doctor she calmed somewhat. Though it was still took quite a bit of doing, to slow her panicky heart. Charlotte felt something soft and large run gently over her front but she forced herself to ignore it, focusing instead on Alphys.

The doctor gingerly touched the crack, carefully tracing its length with a claw.

“This…I-I’ve never seen anything like this before…” Alphys whispered hollowly. Charlotte winced.

 

“Is it…bad…?”

The doctor raised her eyes to Charlotte, looking completely lost.

 

“How…how are you still _alive_ right now?” Alphys asked. _Wrong thing to say._ Another wave of nausea hit the human. She swallowed.

“W-what does it mean..?”

 

“You look like something…has been eating away at your soul. Drilling you full of holes like c-cavities in a tooth…”

 

“Am I… _dying_?” Charlotte breathed.

“Charlotte…you should already be _dead_ …” Alphys shook her head slowly. Charlotte looked away, she didn’t want to see the holes anymore.

 

“Do souls not…crack?”

 

“They do. Well monster souls do anyway. But that only happens right before they _die_.” Alphys blinked then hurried to amend her statement before Charlotte could go into another panic. “B-but these holes look _old_ like they’ve been here for a while. A-and l-look! It seems like they’re h-healing…”

Charlotte felt another touch on her chest, near where her real heart was.

“So…what does _that_ mean?” Charlotte whispered hoarsely.

 

“Well, human s-souls are supposed to be a l-lot m-more resilient than ours… Maybe that m-means humans can s-survive more damage to their souls…” Alphys didn’t sound convinced of this herself. But Charlotte didn’t call her on it. Apparently she had big deadly cracks in her soul for a while now, and somehow instead of killing her, they were slowly healing. Charlotte felt numb. How long had she been like this?

 

“C-Charlotte…do you have any id-dea what could have caused this?” Alphys asked

 

_Sans_

 

“N-no…” Charlotte shook her head slowly. “P-please… can you…fix it?” The doctor bit down hard on her lower lip.

 

“I-I’ll…try…”


	36. INTERMISSION Aster pt.1: Dying With Your Boots On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. So I'm going on a roadtrip with some friends for about a week and a half. That means no updates until like, the week after next. 
> 
> So in view of this temporary Hiatus, I'm giving you guys this bonus chapter to cut your teeth on. Its not part of the natural story flow, but I thought you guys might enjoy a little intermission. ;)
> 
> I'll toss up some 3D renders of Aster and maybe Charlotte and Daphne too so there's no hard feels. 
> 
> See ya in two weeks!

Intermission Aster (part 1) Dying with your boots on

 

 

 

 

_A man isn’t a man, unless he can die with his boots on._

 

That’s what Ajax’s father had said before going off to war. He departed when the peach blossoms were in bloom, and returned before the last leaf even hit the ground.

 

The soldier nearly died from blood loss. The entire bottom half of his left calf had been snapped like a hazel twig. When they brought him in from the battlefield, he was almost dead. The wound had soaked through all its wrappings and it took cauterizing with a hot iron to finally stop the bleeding. Ajax had been forced from room during this but he’d peeked through a rotting section of the wall and seen everything. The blacksmith heated up a metal poker and used it to sear the flesh shut, all the while the soldier screamed and thrashed. He was strong back then, and it took five men to hold him down.

 

A long bitter winter followed, and the soldier wilted like a withered leaf. Many months passed away in a cold delirious sweat.

 

The war was _hell_. And the denizens thereof were their enemy. Ajax’s father told of the roar of battle. And of the demons who had taken his leg.

 

The battle had raged on for days and days. Morale was low and human victories were few and far between.  Yet the soldier fought on, growing numb to the ordeal. One evening he would be singing and sharing a triumph with his comrades. Another evening he’d be piling up their bodies to burn.

Triumph defeat triumph defeat.

It grew monotonous after a while. Second nature.

 

The soldier said he’d fought the devil himself.—though no one but his son believed this story. The soldier looked into those eyes of blood.  The devil had swung and he’d come up to parry the blow. Three blows. Three heartbeats. And then something struck his chest. There were flames—though they were as cold as ice. They burned him inside and out—though it left no mark of entry. A shout had come. But the soldier could not understand the words. He was frozen from the devil’s blow.

 

Men and monsters fought. Men and monsters fell. Victory defeat. Victory defeat. The dong and ding of a bell swinging on. Make a hit and make it count—only to have the weight of your hit fall back upon you after it reached its apex. Victory, defeat. Victory, defeat.

Men took the morning.

Monsters took the night.

Men took lives.

Monsters took _lineages_.

Victory defeat. Victory defeat.

Again and again, and again.

 

And it wasn’t until that moment, when the soldier felt that cold of a burning in his soul—did he realize the _truth_.

Men take marshes.

Monsters take valleys.

And on and on and on and on.

And for what?

Men take noonday.

Monsters take midnight.

**_DEVIL_ TAKE ALL. **

The shout came. A call for aid. And with a single sweep of his arm, the king swatted the soldier aside like a child’s poppet as he charged off towards the shouts. The soldier hit the rocks hard, sliding a ways right into the thick of it. And in an instant found himself tangled in the legs of a scaly towering assailant.

The soldier didn’t hear the snap. All he heard was the roar of battle as he was trampled into the dirt, feeling his bones shatter. The foot faltered and nearly came down a second time on his chest.  But it paused before the full weight of it could crush the human’s chest. A pair of yellow eyes fell and locked onto the soldier’s.

 

For whatever reason, the monster didn’t smash him. Their eyes widened, and the foot withdrew, stumbling backwards with a gracelessness that had not existed seconds earlier. The demon halted, not taking its eyes off of the broken soldier, its great fanged maw fell open.

_Then it was dust._

A spear ruptured through the monster’s back and up through its chest. A gag of shock and it began to crumble. But the eyes never left the soldier’s shattered leg as it fell upon him.

 

  _Then it blew away._

 

The soldier’s health deteriorated. Like an old garment worn, washed and rung until it was paper-thin and blanched of all color and shape.  Ajax watched it happen. His father was a strong man. He’d survived the hell of battle, and the sorrow of lost comrades. He could bare anything this damn world could throw at him.

But the one thing he could not handle—was his own uselessness. The realization that he had gone as far as he could go. That his friends still fought and bled and died on the battlefield while he lay on a cushion and ate honey and bread. It _ruined_ him.

 

But he’d gotten what he wanted in the end. They _all_ had. They’d won. And the soldier got to die the way he’d always intended. Proud. Useful. Meaningful. Noble. And strong.

_He died with his boots on._

Two humans stood hand in hand atop a high cliff. A female—young with hair like a wildfire. And a male—gangly; worn down from too many passes. He was missing the lower half of his left leg. The pair embraced, clinging to one another. Then they stood, hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder—

 

 And _leapt._

 

 

Ajax looked away.

 

He was one of the firsts to jump after his parents. One of the firsts to follow their example.  He leapt before he could think about it. Before cowardice could prevent him. Before the _horror_ could set in.

 

The boy didn't want to linger. Didn't want to see them all die.

Ajax wanted to fall with grace. With his arms spread wide like he a bird. like falling into a bed of leaves, coming up to meet a friend’s embrace. He wanted it to be peaceful.

But even then as he stepped off of the cliff and his foot met empty air— _he knew._ He knew he wasn't brave like his father. He wasn't _strong_. He was afraid. And worse than that he was _selfish_.

 

Selfish because he’d only leapt first so he wouldn’t have to watch the others break. Selfish because he was only thirteen winters old and already a _coward_.

 

 Selfish because he wanted to _live._

 

The wind rushed past his ears and he plummeted. Spiraling end over end towards the earth. A scream escaped his lips. And he found himself grasping and clawing wildly at the empty air. The ground rose up to greet him. His vision blurred. The boy never felt the impact.

 

 

Ajax awoke. _That was a surprise_. He lay face down, blood in his nose. Cold air filling his lungs. His heart trying to escape from his chest. A touch. Someone touched his shoulder. A warm pressure.  Ajax was alive. He let out a moan.

Whispers…

 

Whispers. All around.

 

 Voices. Soft.  Deep. Resonating.

_Inhuman_...

 

The boy was rolled over onto his back. A large armored head blocked out the sunlight and filled Ajax’s view. A pair of tiny white lights floated in the dark empty eyeholes. They grew larger when they met the boy’s eyes.

Ajax screamed.

One heartbeat.

The whispers died.

 

The armored monster drew back instantly, stumbling over themselves to get away from the shrieking human. Ajax heaved, clambering to his feet as a shadow of horror fell over his soul.

_Monsters_. Hundreds of them. They were _everywhere_.  Each towering nightmare went stock still and gaped as the human stumbled backwards back until his back was pressed against stone.

 

Oh hell.  The boy breathed in fresh revulsion. He was standing before the _legion_. The whole of the monster army.

And he was alive.

He was alive.

Oh _hell_.

_Why_ was he alive?

 

The demons stared. A few shifting closer. The boy heaved, shaky fists coming up.

 

_Die with your boots on._

 

A voice like grinding stones cut through the silence. Ajax listened, but could not give a name to the tongue.

 

"GLAC!"

 

Armored _Giants_. Immense, inhuman warriors with axes and swords longer than the boy’s entire body circled up and began to approach. Ajax pinched his eyes shut.  He was going to die. He was going to die. They were going to strike him down where he stood, or worse rip his soul from his body. He was going to die.

But…

Ajax already _knew_ that.

Didn’t he?

He'd known that for a while now. No matter what he said, No matter what he did from here on out. It didn’t matter.

They _would_ kill him.

Whatever he chose to do... He would die either way.

 

He was going to die.

The thought was _poison_.

He was going to die.

The thought was _power_.

He was going to die.

Okay then.

He’d bow out like a man.

Like his father.

_He would die with his boots on._

 

“HA-HAH!” Ajax cried, slicing through the silence with a sudden flair of bravura. The human struck a pose, mimicking a fighting stance his father once showed him. He threw out his chest, and raised his head to a proud angle.

_He must have looked like an idiot. But he didn’t care what these beasts thought of him. Everyone he’d ever known and loved was dead because of them._

He would go out fighting like a man. Like high king conn of the hundred battles.

_No one could hurt him if he was already dead. It didn’t_ matter _anymore._

Ajax spat on the ground, grinding the spittle in with the heel of his foot. Then slapped his chest challengingly with both fists like a roman gladiator.

Nothing _mattered anymore…_

 

Impossibly the armored Giants stopped in their tracks. They _hesitated_ , glancing at one another uncertainly. Ajax blinked, eyes widening. Had he really just… _intimidated_ them? He soundly shook himself with a scowl. _Certainly not._ The devils were probably just stunned that this scrawny barefoot little human boy had the stupid audacity to challenge an entire garrison of monsters by himself. Ajax grimaced.

  _Too late to back down now._

One of the monsters that had been approaching shouldered their axe. They then turned and cast a questioning gaze back towards the monster that had given the command. They must have been a leader of some kind. He looked vaguely turtle—like. He was beefy, armor plated with a gnarled inhuman face covered in dark scales. The turtle gave Ajax one quick look and snorted.

 

He made an odd gesture. Some sign language that Ajax wasn’t familiar with.  The turtle brought his thumb and forefinger together in a pinching motion. He shook his head, then tapped his lower cheek with his pointer finger.

The boy’s assailants nodded and to his astonishment, Swords were sheathed. Axes and spears shouldered or placed on the ground and four now _unarmed_ monsters surrounded him. They kept their arms out, knees bent as if to lunge out and catch him if he tried to make a run for it. But other than that they kept their distance. A fifth monster made a rumbling noise to catch the human’s attention. When they had it, they began to approach.

 

Ajax raised his fists. He tossed his head back and scoffed—that’s what they did in stories wasn’t it? — He had no weapon. He'd left his knife at the house. Not that a broken off carving knife would have done him much good anyway. But it would have been nice to have _something_ to defend himself with. _Anything_.   His eyes darted for a rock, a stick—something he could use as a weapon. There was none to be found.

 

The looming beast began edging to the boy’s left, as if he was trying to slip behind him. Ajax scowled, turning in unison to follow the movement. The beast took a slow step planting their foot towards the boy, bowing into a crouch.

Then it happened.

The boy was grabbed. Snatched up from behind by one of the monsters that had formed the barrier around him in case he ran. And before Ajax could even begin to react, a pair of armored arms shot around him. He let out a shout as he was lifted and pinned back first against a massive armored chest.

 “HEY! HEY!!” Ajax’s shout turned into a garbled battle cry and he writhed thrashing against his captor. But it was no use. Arms bigger around than the boys waist had interlocked around his own much smaller ones-- effectively pinning them to his sides.

Ajax heard a snort, and his head shot up. The turtle was watching him, shaking his head dismissively with an amused smirk plastered across his gnarled face. Ajax glared, as the hulking thing carried him towards the smug turtle. The monster actually shifted Ajax so his was pinned with only one arm, freeing the other so he could salute the turtle.

The human’s capture seemed to embolden the other monsters. And they drew closer cocking misshapen demon heads as they ogled the helpless boy.  Ajax’s face heated up and he raised his chin with a huff.

 

The turtle returned the salute briskly.  Then turned his attention towards another figure. A looming shape that hadn’t approached with the others. One that stood alone several yards off.  Ajax’s eyes grew round.

It was him.

The one from his father’s stories.

He was _real_.

 

There were many names. Many titles that men had given the beast throughout the years. The Northmen called him Curnnunos, the horned god. They worshipped him by firelight offering up the blood of virgins to appease the beast’s wrath. And further still in the northern mountains, he was called Herne the hunter, a lesser deity who led the spirits of the damned to crawl out into the world on a wild hunt for the souls of wayward travelers. Those who came from southward, the ancestral Alps of his father-- spoke of Pan. God of mountain wiles and sexual pleasure.

 

And to his mother, the Christ follower, The one who denied the existence of all other gods- who saw their worship as vice and vanity. Even she had a name for the chief of the monsters. He was called Beelzebub. The lord of flies. **The Devil.**

 

 

All eyes turned to the monster king. All went quiet, awaiting his decision.  But the horned fiend didn’t approach.  They just stood by, watching the procession with great blood colored eyes. Those eyes met a smaller violet pair and Aster felt a chill race down his spine. Without a word the monster king inclined a large horned head towards the turtle. The turtle grunted arm crossing his heart in salute. It was as if an order had been given. Every monster snapped to work. The human was _taken_.

 

 

It was a one room stone inlaid house. The house that had once belonged to the stone mason and his wife. That was where the monsters took Ajax. That is where they released him.

Ajax stumbled, legs feeling like jelly but he regained his footing and shot the beasts a glare. He waited there in haughty defiance. Waited for the monsters to look over the building. Waited for them to deem it a satisfactory cage for their little _trophy_. Waited for them to leave him alone with a jug of water and a stub of candlewax. Ajax waited until he was alone.

 

_Then he let himself fall apart._

 

Ajax hadn’t cried since he was ten and hadn’t let anybody _see_ him do it since he was at most _eight_. For an almost fourteen-year-old—it was _humiliating_ to say the least. He chided himself, forcing down the tears as best he could. He couldn’t let them beat him. Not like this. Not with that _damnedable_ smug turtle and his condescending smirk. Not in the home of his _friends_. Of m _artyrs_. And _certainly_ not in the shadow of the monster king himself. No. He had to be tough. His friends died like heroes. He wouldn’t disgrace their memory with his cowardice.

 

An hour later the wicker door opened. Ajax tense, fists clenching. A familiar armored figure clunked in. The boy raised his chin chest puffing. He recognized this one. It was the monster who'd roused him. The one he'd startled. The monster approach, and Ajax clambered to his feet.

 

"S-stay back!" the boy spat cursing the squeak in his voice. The monster paused head tipping. Ajax stamped his foot in the monster’s direction, earning a satisfying jolt.  "You hear me? Back off!"

 

The monster shook his great head rumbling something in another tongue. Ajax scowled, huffing.

 

"You" he pointed at the monster. "Go" a shooing gesture. "Away." He waved towards the door. The monster's head dipped the other way as if trying to get a better look at the boy. The monster shrugged, then reached into the sack and produced a large red apple.

 

"Miannach?" It rumbled holding the fruit up. Ajax stared. What part of _go away_ was this thing not understanding? The human jabbed a finger towards the door more emphatically.  

" _Brainless_ — GO!"

 

The monster drew its axe. And Ajax felt all of his bold words clench and get stuck in his throat.  He took several slow steps towards the wall. However, the monster simply plopped down on the ground, with a clank, and began cutting the apple into slices. It rumbled melodically to itself as it worked. Ajax eyed the creature as it pinched one of the slices between its fingers and held it out to him.

 

Ajax scowled shaking his head. The monster blinked, then its shoulders bounced and it lifted the lower part of his helmet and popped a slice into its mouth, chewed noisily and swallowed, glowing eyes never leaving the boy. Ajax squinted.

 

The monster nodded to itself then tried a second time to hand an apple slice to the human. Ajax pulled a face.

“Oh shove off…” he muttered, turning away with a scoff.

The monster sighed.  A long suffering sound. It places the slices on a handkerchief and placed it before the boy. Then it waited.

The monster tapped its fingers together. The little lights of its eyes studying the human thoughtfully. Ajax bit his lower lip. For a monster, this fellow seemed a lot less… _monstrous_ than Ajax had expected. Of course, he hadn’t _expected_ to survive a close up encounter long enough to be able to cast such dispersions. But even so… the longer he—(Ajax was almost certain this one was male)—sat there waiting, the more curious the human grew.

Finally Ajax gave in. He reached down slowly and put a slice of apple into his mouth. The monster perked up eye lights growing bright.

 

Ajax ate in silence, never taking his eyes the monster. When he was finished the monster eagerly fished another apple from his bag and held it out. Eyes sparkling. Ajax scowled, but this time he didn’t hesitate before swiping the apple away.

“Fine…” He grumbled sinking his teeth into the juicy flesh. The monster let out rumbling growl. Not a threatening sound. More like a purr of cognition. A pleasant hum.

 

Ajax ate two more apples without a fuss. Perhaps if he just gave the fool thing what he wanted he would leave. The monster flopped down onto its belly with a clank. A pair of great arms propped  up an equally bulky head beneath the chin. He watched captivated as the human ate. It was such a childish pose that Ajax scoffed, letting a tiny bit of apple fall from his lips.

“What? “Ajax grumbled. The monster scooted a little closer. “ _What_? What do you want?” he repeated. The monster dipped his head, eye lights shining with fascination. Ajax groaned taking another big fierce bite.

 

“Look at that… _wow_! The Human is eating a _fucking_ apple….” Ajax groused, mostly to himself. “Unbelievable! Let’s stare at him like a fool! Maybe if we’re lucky he’ll do a trick…”

The monster rumbled out a laugh, shaking his head slowly. He clearly didn’t understand a word of what the human had just said, but the sarcasm was clearly not lost on him. The human scowled.

 

Why would they send such a goofy monster in to guard him? While Ajax didn’t know the particulars, he assumed that this guy had been ordered to feed him and— _more importantly_ keep an eye on him so he didn’t try to escape. Ajax pulled a face. Come to think of it, this was the same monster that tried to wake him up earlier. Why? Why would someone go around poking _corpses_ to see if they would move? Was he really that _dense_? The human squinted, taking in the monster’s appearance.

 

They were a lot smaller than the other monsters Ajax had seen. Perhaps only a head and shoulders length taller than Ajax’s father had been. Though still many times as broad. Did this mean he was… _young_? Ajax cocked a brow at the monster, trying to wrap his head around the new thought. Had he really been dealing with a _child_ this whole time? No, likely not a child. A _teenager_ at the youngest. They were sort of awkward looking. All broad and squat with big hands and feet. Like he was stuck in that awkward state right before a growth spurt.  Ajax set aside the last apple core, wiping his sticky hands off against his pants. He hesitated before nodded to the monster in thanks.

 

 The monster’s eye lights narrowed suddenly, focusing in on the human's forehead.  Another thoughtful rumble. Then a large armored hand extended reaching for Ajax’s face.

  The human drew back instantly. He hissed smacking the hand away.  The monster pulled its hand away, eye lights growing wide. It reached again for Ajax’s face, this time more timidly.

Ajax made another animalistic hissing noise, making a clawing gesture for good measure. The monster seemed to understand this better than words. His eye lights went round, and leaned away, hands coming up to his chest, chin tucking. The kicked puppy look on an unholy hell spawn was so ridiculous, that the human started laughing.

 

An armored head came up, and it blinked at the human. Ajax laughed harder, knees drawing in close to his chest. His fingers clawed up into his hair. He laughed so hard that it hurt his chest. So hard that tears began searing down his dirty cheeks. And once they began, they didn’t stop coming.

The monster watched him, eye lights darting, fingertips tapping together. After a moment he raised a nervous hand again, reaching for the human’s bleeding head.

“Just—LEAVE IT!” the human snarled, between gasps. He shoved the monster hard in the chest. The sudden ferocity started a landslide of violence. Ajax began banging his fists against the monster’s armored chest. He ignored the fact that he was bloodying up his own knuckles. He didn’t care that the monster simply cocked his head and stared.  He just kept banging and swearing in a low hoarse whisper.

On one swing, a large hand caught his fist and held it up for examination. Ajax cursed at the monster, trying to yank away, but he lacked the strength. The monster touched Ajax’s battered knuckles.

“L-leonta…” it rumbled. Ajax raised his eyes to the creature and sniffled. Why couldn’t he just leave him alone? The monster pointed to their own forehead, repeating the nonsensical word. Ajax let out another hiss. He showed his teeth like an animal. The monster’s shoulders sagged, and he letting out a little huff releasing him.

The monster tapped his helmet, rumbling with cognition. After a moment his eyes brightened and he retrieved his battle axe. Aster scooted further into the corner at this, chest puffed, teeth bared. But the monster barely noticed. Instead he laid the weapon across his palms, and held it out to the human.

 

Ajax flinched back, squinting at the axe as though it was a poisonous serpent. But the monster didn’t pull away and it was held closer to him. The monster wiggled the hilt slightly across the palms.

Ajax frowned. The message was clear enough but… why? Was he really offering to let the human hold onto his only weapon? Said human scowled deeply. The monster was giving him something to defend himself with, so that he wouldn’t feel so defenseless. And then—maybe calm down and let the monster do what it wanted. Ajax wasn’t sure whether he should be annoyed with this revelation or touched.  

 

Slowly—very slowly, the human extended a hand and laid it on the hilt of the axe. The monster nodded giving off an encouraging rumble. Ajax closed both hands around the hilt, eyes locking back onto the monster’s. The moment he had a grip the monster released its grip on the axe. Ajax l let out a yip, as the axe clattered to the ground. Heavy…

He hadn’t expected it to be so heavy. The human squared his shoulders and tried to lift the axe again. Too heavy… He strained harder, managing to lift it a few inches off the ground before dropping it with a pant. Finally he gave up, shoving the weapon away with a huff and folding his arms.

 

The monster had the gall to look _pleased_ with himself. He sat with his legs folded and crossed its arms, mimicking the human’s posture. Ajax scoffed. For perhaps the fifth time, the monster raised a hand towards Ajax’s face. This time the human let it do what it wanted. Too tired and annoyed to fight anymore. The cool metal of the monsters’ armored hand brushed back the boy’s bangs. They stuck to his forehead, and Ajax assumed it was from blood. The monster’s eye lights began glowing a soft green color.

 Ajax stiffened, realizing that the monster was using magic. Dread. He tried to jerk away, but the monster had his face held fast as it worked. It let out another comforting rumble. Finally the glowing abated and the monster released him. Ajax drew back, glaring at the monster. He raised a hand to his forehead, but could no longer feel the cut above his eye. The human blinked.

 

He examined himself with wide eyes. The cuts and bruises that had dotted his arms were healed over. The deep gash on his calf was nothing more than a shiny pink scar.The monster tilted its head, at the human, eye lights glowing with delight. Ajax gaped.

That wasn’t right.

The monster had he healed him? It made no sense. Monsters couldn’t fix things, they could only break things. They had taken so many lives. Destroyed so many homes. _They were evil._

 

“What…just what the hell is wrong with you…?” Ajax breathed. The monster cocked his head to the side, squinting uncomprehendingly. The human tried again. “You.” he touched the monster’s chest. “Kill” Then he pointed to the axe on the floor. “No?” he shook his head.

 

The monster touched the axe then pointed to itself, rumbling out some foreign gibberish.

 

Ajax huffed. He was too exhausted and too annoyed to deal with this.  “Demon” he pointed to the monster. “Human” he pointed to himself. The monster hesitated. He rumbled something in his gibberish tongue and shook his head.  Ajax narrowed his eyes and repeated himself more emphatically.

 

“D…daemin…” the monster rumbled pointing to himself. He then reached out and gingerly poked Ajax’s nose with a large finger. “H…hyoomin…?”

 

Ajax drew back with a scowl, but nodded. Then He knelt down on the dirt floor and began drawing with his finger, the monster leaned down close to watch him. The boy drew the shape of the mountains.

 

“Mountain.” Ajax pointed to the shape. The monster repeated more readily this time.

 

“Mowntin!” he rumbled. Ajax nodded giving a genuine grin at this. He then gestured in the direction of the real mountains.

 

“Human mountains.” He said, then he pointed to the drawing of the mountain and repeated it. The monster seemed to grin as well.

 

“Hyoomin mowntin”

 

“Good!” Ajax nodded. He drew a circle in the dirt. “Demons.” He said, pointing to the circle and then to the monster for emphasis. The great helmeted head was nodding following the logic.  Ajax congratulated himself on making progress. He thinned his eyes and pointed to the circle. “Demons.” Then he drew a line from the circle towards his drawing of the mountains. The monster squinted.

 

“Daemins….hyoomin mowntin…” He rumbled uncertainly. Ajax nodded. He traced the line between them again, then raised his hands and gave the monster a questioning look. The lights in the monster’s helmet disappeared. He seemed to shrink in on himself. A soft rumble of understanding.

Ajax bit his lip. The monster ran a hand over its helmet. Then pointed at the base of the mountain.

 

“h-hyoomin…” he mumbled. The monster reached down and took a handful of loose dirt. He lifted his fist and paid the human a mournful look. “Hyoomin…” he repeated, then let the sandy dirt slip from his fingers like dust in the wind. Ajax felt like someone had just punched him in the gut. He turned his face away.

 

The monster whined softly. And Ajax felt something gently poke his ribs. Ajax wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “H…ha…hyoomin…?” The monster mumbled.

 The human sighed and looked back at the creature. The monster’s eye lights were dim. It put a hand onto the hilt of its axe, and raised the other to where its heart would have been. Then it shook its head slowly.

The message was clear. The monsters didn’t want to fight. Ajax’s lower lip trembled. That was impossible…Yet…at least this monster, seemed like they did not want to hurt anyone. He seemed…. _Innocent_.

 

“Why?” Ajax hissed, drawing the monster’s attention. “Why do you fight?”

 

Before the monster could begin rumbling about how he didn’t understand, Ajax jabbed a finger at the circle that represented ‘demons.’

 

“Demons. You.” he growled, waving at the monster. He drew a square next to it. “Humans. Me.” He pointed to the square and to himself. The monster nodded, eyes dimming.

“Humans. Demons.” Ajax pointed to each. Then pointed to the axe. “Kill.” At the word kill Ajax made a violent gesture to the air, choking and hissing as if someone was attacking him. He finished his performance by flopping dramatically over and sticking out his tongue. The monster leaned over him, eye lights round. He prodded Ajax in the ribs, rumbling something uncertainly.

“DEAD” Ajax said, motioning to himself. “Dead!” he pointed to the base of the mountain. The monster drew back slightly. The human snatched up a handful of dirt. “Kill!” he made a violent stabbing gesture towards himself. “Dead!” he let the sandy dirt slip dramatically through his fingers, locking eyes with the monster.

The monster drew up his shoulders. The lights leaving his eyes.

“K-keel…” he rumbled softly. “D…da… _ded_ …”

Ajax nodded harshly.

“Why?” he demanded. The monster was silent for a moment. Then he knelt down and began drawing in the sand. A large humanoid shape took form. The figure was holding a three pronged spear. A pair of horns coming from the top of their head. Ajax swallowed hard. The monster didn’t have to explain. The human immediately recognized the shape for what it was. But even so, the monster poked the figure with a large finger.

“Asgore.” He stated, slow and clear. “ _Asgore_.”

 

###############################################################################

 

And here we see the wittlest orphan himself in all his poorly rendered glory. 

 

Aaaand some equally crappy pics of Daphne and Charlotte. 


	37. INTERLUDE 6: (Sans)  Pieces (part 1)

**AN: Hey guys! I’m back from vacation! Thanks to all the well-wishers who sent such nice messages. They really made my day! My pals and I basically spent a week bumming around on a beach in San Diego. Surfing, building sand castles, getting so ridiculously sunburnt that it hurt to wear clothing. XD you know, the works. That and a day at Disneyland. It was pretty fun.**

**Also, holy crap you guys, thank you so much for checking out my friend’s comic! She came bounding up to me the morning after I posted. She was practically glowing with happiness, saying that she’d gotten over 400 more views than usual practically overnight. The attention on her work really made her birthday. Thank you all so much for spreading the word. High fives all around.**

**So here’s the next chapter. This is a long one, and part 2 will be up hopefully within the next few days (maybe with some illustrations too ;)  )**

**Anyways, on to answering your comments.**

 

#### @ ThrowawaySpecificallyForThisComment: You’re so sweet. I honestly expected more annoyance from my readers at the sudden break. But so far everyone on this site and ff.net have been pretty understanding about it. I’m glad.

#### And I’m glad that you enjoy this story so much. I love hearing from readers. So thanks for sticking with this.

#### @ Yawdin: Ack! You do know I’m majoring in educational psychology right? The teacher in me is absolutely reeling. (But the punkass kid in me finds it hilarious. So read on bud. XD )

 

#### @ eJ121: 3D stuff. Bleh.  It’s a good idea, but I have way too many projects going right now. Plus fur is satan to make. Just sayin. XD

 

#####################################################################################

 

Interlude 6: Pieces (part 1)

 

 

 

The text came around 4:30 pm. A good half hour before Sans was supposed to meet up with the human.

 

 

 **Pipsqueak:** *ey bigguyy can’t meet tonite wrk

 

Sans stared at the illegible text. He had to re-read it twice to figure out what she was trying to say.

 

 **Sans:** *what’s up? Get called into work or something?

 

The skeleton waited, but no reply came. He resent the text incase it hadn’t gone through. Nothing. About an hour later he tried phoning her. The call went straight to voicemail. Still no reply. That was over six hours ago, and since then Sans’ mood had taken a nosedive. He’d flopped out on the sofa and started flicking absentmindedly through the channels.

So. She was ignoring him. The skeleton was a little surprised by just how _disappointed_ he felt. This Chara thing had been eating away at him for a long time. And his first viable lead in months didn’t even have the decency to pick up her phone. No explanation. No answers. Just another dead end.

_He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up._

But it was more than just frustration over losing a lead. Wasn’t it?  Maybe it was the fact that Sans knew it was probably his fault she was avoiding him. He’d confessed to attempting to murder someone. And he’d made it clear that he’d do it again if push came to shove. _Of course_ the human wasn’t coming back. Any _sane_ person would have mashed the panic button from that alone. Sure, she’d been pretty composed when they’d last spoken—but then, she’d been completely plastered. She’d probably sobered up, grasped the fact that he was dangerous and started backpedaling. It wasn’t surprising that he would end up driving the human away. But the fact that it was unintentional this time stung more than Sans cared to admit.

Hell, all she’d seen of him had been threatening. The first time they’d met he’d been pulling out all the stop to seem intimidating. That was his usual shtick with humans. Lead with a confident front, do some posturing, drop a few veiled threats all while keeping a relaxed, outgoing persona. He’d done it so many times it was almost second nature now.

At first it felt harsh to him. Cruel. But he knew it was a necessary evil. He had to make sure everyone stayed safe. He had be vigilant. Frisk was gone. There could be no more resets. Whatever happened now would be _permanent_. He’d finally made it. Finally clawed his way out of that time loop—that _hell_. He couldn’t let their happy ending fall apart.  _Humans_. They were everywhere. They were a _threat_ that had to be accounted for. Sans had escaped from one devil only to be surrounded by billions more. And the Skeleton knew better than anyone how much damage a single human could do if given a reason.

 

The only timeline his friends and family were aware of was ‘best case scenario.’ All they knew was that a human child had entered the underground, and despite the fact that nearly everyone was out to kill them and take their soul—the human refused to harm a single person, and somehow managed to lift a thousand year curse and free the monster race.

 If that was the only reality Sans’ knew, he too would have wells and wells of faith in humanity’s goodness. He too would feel optimistic about the future. He too would believe that a peaceful existence with humanity was inevitable. And despite the fact that they were having a rocky start, he would keep his idealistic point of view. Frisk had been nothing more than a helpless child, trapped in a world full of beings that wanted to hurt her. That wanted her gone. Yet she’d never lost faith in them. Despite everything, she still saw good in them. She still saved them.

That was how so many monsters felt. Sure, the humans hadn’t welcomed them with open arms. But if Frisk had had faith in them. If Frisk was good enough and kind enough to look past everything the monsters had done to her—then they could do the same. They could hold onto their optimism a little longer. They could have faith in the better nature of humanity.

They could find lasting peace in this new world.

 

Sans did his best not to stomp on his friend’s dreams. They were such _nice_ dreams after all. But he didn’t have the luxury of optimism. He wasn’t _blind_ like everyone else.

Yes. Frisk _had_ saved them. And yes, Frisk had gone through the underground without harming anyone. But what no one else knew, was that for every time Frisk had shown mercy, there were countless timelines where she _hadn’t_.

When Frisk had fallen into the underground the first time, she hadn’t been the compassionate angel from above that everyone thought she was. She’d been a bruised, terrified little girl, lost in a strange new world of towering _monstrosities_ that wanted her _dead_. She’d been spoon fed stories her whole life about how monsters loved to gobble up little children. How they would steal her soul. The human’s whole worldview regarding monster-kind was that they were little more than heartless devils that cause chaos and misery wherever they went. And the fact that nearly every monster she encountered attacked her only cemented that belief.

 

She’d been afraid. Helpless. Just like all the others who had fallen. who had died. And Frisk _would_ have died. Likely before she ever even left the ruins.

But then **_she_** came. 

Determination is a powerful thing. However no human should have been able to do what Frisk had done. No human no matter how gifted has the power to manipulate time.

Saves? Resets? Turning back death itself?  None of that came from _Frisk_.

It was **_her_**. It had _always_ been **_her_**.

The vengeful spirit of a bonded soul.

The twisted remains of a deranged mind.

**The demon who comes when you call her name.**

They say that when a monster takes a human soul, they gain godlike power. That was the power that Chara offered Frisk. The ability to give herself as many second chances as she needed. The power that preserved her life as she traversed the underground. The power that she’d nearly lost her soul for. That was Chara’s gift.

_The secondhand power of a dead god._

She let Chara in. She’d had no choice. Either that or die like all the rest.

**Frisk let Chara in.**

 

People often wondered how someone as young as Frisk could accomplish so much on her own. She’d survived the underground, freed a nation, and spoke with an intellect and soberness so far beyond her limited years. Only Sans knew the truth.

 

The Frisk of the final timeline. The Frisk everyone knew—was no child. Not anymore.

Once Sans had tried to work out just how much collective time had passed away during the countless time-loops and resets. Each timeline lasted anywhere from a day to three weeks between resets. And given how many resets Sans recalled living through…

It amounted to _years_. The realization was overwhelming. Years and years fell away in that time-loop. And while to the world only a few days passed between the time Frisk first entered the underground and the time they left, for Sans and for Frisk, it had taken _years_. _Decades_. The human’s childhood was swallowed up in those endless loops.

The heroine that everyone knew. That pillar of moral righteousness. The proof of humanities inherent goodness— was not the gentle nature of a remarkable child. It was the culmination of years and years of _sin_. Of trial and error. Of mistakes and regrets. Frisk’s morality was the end result, not the default. It was her way of atoning for her sins. A way to make up for a lifetime of mercilessness and shame. Frisk turned out alright in the end. She became the hero monster kind had needed. She’d done the impossible.

More than once, during Frisk’s term as Ambassador Sans wondered if the human found it frustrating. Frustrating to have lived and grown and experienced so much. To be mentally, emotionally, and intellectually an _adult_ but to still be trapped in such an immature body. To have everyone see you as a child who doesn’t know what they’re doing. To be treated like a kid and to be patronized as such despite all of their achievements. To never truly be taken seriously. It had to be _maddening_.

 

Yet in spite of everything else that had passed between them, Sans still found that he had loved the person she’d grown into. How could he not? In the end, she had been as much a victim of Chara’s wrath as any of them. Chara had swallowed up her innocence. Stolen her childhood. Brainwashed her into thinking that her only means of survival in such a nasty world was to be merciless. How could she have know any better? She was just a frightened child at the time. A puppet in the hands of that demon. Frisk understood better than anyone what Sans had gone through. And now that she was gone.

Sans really was _alone_ now. Wasn’t he? So where did that leave him? Did he believe that there was good in humanity? Did he, like the rest of monster kind, believe that one day, there could be peace between the two races?

Yes. He did.

But unlike everyone else. He knew that the journey to peace would be a lot longer and darker than they thought.

 

Sans’ phone buzzed. The skeleton jolted upright on the sofa, nearly knocking over his bottle of ketchup he’d been nursing. He glanced at screen. 11:48 P.M. One new message from Pipsqueak.

 

 **Pipsqueak** : I am so sorry about that. We had an emergency at work and I couldn’t text for a while.

 

Sans stared. She…couldn’t come to the phone? He felt some of the tightness in his chest loosen as he tapped out a reply.

 

 **Sans:** *what kind of emergency?

 

_Ping._

 

In response she sent a photograph. From the angle it looked like the human had taken the picture of her own lap. There was a manky blue blanket across her lap, with six lumpy white balls of fur piled in the center. The creatures were scrawny, barely larger than the human’s palm, with a thin sleek layer of fur covering their pink pudgy bodies. Sans squinted, taking another sip of the condiment.

 

 **Sans:** *the hell are those things? Rats?

_Ping._

**Pipsqueak:** *Dogs

 

The skeleton pulled a face.

 **Sans:** *you sure about that pal? They look kinda smashed and ugly.

_Ping._

 

 **Pipsqueak:** * Ha. You try spending ten hours getting squashed and squeezed through a birthing canal and see how pretty _you_ look.

 

Sans choked on a mouthful of ketchup—a rather impressive feat considering the fact that he had no throat.

 

 **Sans:** * are you telling me you just helped deliver a litter of puppies?

 

 **Pipsqueak:** *All by my onesie. The normal night girl hadn’t been trained for it yet. She lost her cookies after the first one crowned. I sent her home.

 

Sans let out a slow breath leaning back in his seat. So she wasn’t just ignoring him. He felt a more genuine grin forming on his face.

 

 **Sans** :*Ten hours of labor? Holy _shiatzu_ pal, that’s _ruff_.

 **Pipsqueak** : *Yeah. Birthing dogs can be a real _bitch_.

 

The skeleton let out a loud abrupt laugh at this, causing Doggie to awaken with a jolt, sit up and let out a nervous growl from her crate across the room.

 

“Sorry mutt” Sans rumbled lazily. The dog sneezed.

_Ping._

**Pipsqueak:** Sorry again about standing you up or whatever.

 **Sans** : Naw. Don’t _terrier_ self up over it.

 

The skeleton hefted himself up off the sofa and strode idly over to Doggie’s crate. Doggie let out another growl when he drew closer. Sans put on his best baby talk voice and crouched down before the door.

“Wanna biscuit Doggie?” he asked, fishing one out of her treat box. The dog showed her teeth. “Does you want it? Does you want it good girl?” The dog snapped her jaws in his direction. The skeleton let out a sigh.

 In the weeks since Papyrus had adopted her, she had yet to warm up to Sans. She still tensed and growled when he entered the room and avoided him as best she could. The skeleton had grown tired of being snarled at, so about a week earlier, he’d bought a box of dog treats to butter her up. Every time he walked past her crate (you know, when she was out of snapping range) he made a point to say something nice to her and slip her a treat, to try and win her over. So far he’d been unsuccessful. The teeny cracks and chips on his fingers and palms testified to that.

Doggie clearly hadn’t forgotten how aggressive he’d acted on their first encounter. And she didn’t seem like she planned on forgiving him anytime soon. It was annoying as all get out, but Sans didn’t blame her. The thing had clearly been abused before Paps found her, and once her trust in someone was lost, it seemed almost impossible to get it back. She was fine around Papyrus. The mangy thing would curl up with him for hours at a time. And while Sans didn’t particularly _like_ dogs to begin with, he missed being able to sit on his own sofa during movie night, without having to worry about being mauled by a friggin mini _timber wolf_.

 

Sans slipped a biscuit through the bars, careful to keep his fingers out of range. The dog lunged at the bars, snapping and frothing. The skeleton drew back his hands, cursing under his breath.

 “Yeesh…Take it ya crazy bitch...” he grumbled, tossing the biscuit in. It bounced off of Doggie’s head and rolled under her feet. She bared her teeth. Sans rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah, you got your treat. Now do us all a favor and go play on the freeway or somethin.”

_Ping._

Sans turned away from the crate and went to check his phone.

 **Pipsqueak:** *Hey. I hate to be ‘that guy’ but can you do me a favor?

 

 **Sans:** * oh boy. Is it another sexy modeling gig?

 

 **Pipsqueak:** * Naw. Nothing like that.

_Ping._

**Pipsqueak:*** You can teleport right?

 

Sans did a double take before scowling. How many of his secrets did that damn flower blab to her?  He let the air out of his cheeks and sat down on the armrest of his chair.

 

 **Sans** : *Why? You getting _bonely_ over there with all those pooches?

 

 **Pipsqueak** : *No. That’s not it. I’m gonna be here till morning when the day people get in. These little guys have to eat every two hours, and I’m all by myself here so I can’t leave.

 _Ping_.

 **Pipsqueak** :* I need someone to feed Asriel for me.

 

Sans balked. He frantically reread her text several times before logic caught up with him.  When it did, he scowled realizing who she was talking about. He pressed the call button on his phone and waited.

Click.

 

“Hey Big-Guy.”

 

“You call that weed Asriel?” Sans growled. A pause.

 

“Well. Maybe not to his face…” Daphne deadpanned. Sans shook his head with a grumble. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much. Maybe because calling that abomination by the name of his people’s deceased heir felt… _disrespectful_. The weed was a soulless amalgamate held together with leftover magic and determination. He wasn’t the prince Asriel Tori had raised. The son she had _buried_. 

 

“Well? Can you do it?” Daphne pressed.

 

“Why me?” Sans growled.

 

“Guess I could ask my neighbor to feed him.” The human grunted. “Course, I don’t think she’ll take it too well if my houseplant decides to  cuss her out or takes a snap at her.”  The skeleton folded his arms.

“Can’t that weed take care of himself?”

 

“No. He can’t.” The bluntness of the reply caught Sans off guard. He frowned.

 

“He’s...He’s not _helpless_ Pipsqueak. Trust me on that. I know he looks like a tiny creepy ass flower but He’s far from harmless.” Sans growled. “I don’t know what bullshit he’s been feeding you, but you should know that that weed has done a _skele-ton_ of nasty shit.”

 

“I’m aware of that.” Daphne intoned. Sans scoffed. “But it’s a moot point now. He’s lost his roots. There isn’t much damage he can do to anyone now. “

 

Sans raised a brow. _Roots_? In a previous timeline, Sans had actually confronted Flowey and tried to kill him. However the amalgamate kept popping in and out of the ground in different places to avoid his attacks. And eventually he managed to escape. The skeleton did a little excavating and discovered an elaborate network of roots just beneath the surface. That’s when he realized how Flowey managed to get around so quickly without legs. His network of roots spanned the entire underground, giving the weed easy accesses to anywhere he needed to be. It was how he was able to pop up in random places as he pleased.

The human claimed his roots were _gone_...

 

“He has no roots? What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“Means he got hurt.” Daphne grunted. “Look, he made those transits back when he was a lot more powerful. Some stuff went down before the barrier fell and he got pretty banged up. And now he really doesn’t have the kind of strength to spread himself that thin anymore.”

 

Sans stared. He wasn’t 100% sure on what exactly happened with Flowey that night. He knew that the weed had attacked them before they blacked out. When they awoke Flowey was gone and the barrier had fallen.

 

“So. Just how long are his roots now?” the skeleton asked. Daphne hmmed.

 

“You’ve uh… seen his flowerpot right?”

 

Sans’ jaw dropped.  Then a laugh came rumbling up from the pit of his stomach.

_Oh._

_This was just too priceless._

 

“You saying he can’t even leave that dinky little pot? No foolin?!” Sans’ voice broke into guffaws. The human didn’t join in his laughter. She merely went silent, seeming to wait for him to get it out of his system.

 

“So. Can you bring him dinner?” Daphne grunted, when Sans’ laughter began to die down.

 

“Sure whatever, I’ll leave him a burger or something”

The human hesitated.

 

“It’s… not that simple.” She grunted tentatively. “He doesn’t have vines strong enough to manipulate objects right now. They’re still growing. You’ll uh…you have to spoon feed him…”

Sans let out a choking snort.

 

“Say again…?”

 

 “Asriel needs to be fed by hand. He can’t do meats unless you chop them up into tiny pieces. He won't touch anything green unless it's blended up and mixed in with something else to disguise the taste. He’s best with soups…”

 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me… Are you telling me you actually _spoon feed_ that little asshole three times a day?!”

 

“Yes.”

Sans erupted into another fit of laughter. He thought he heard the human sigh over the sound of his own roaring.

“Damn pipsqueak! I mean, I know you said you were patient… _but wow!_ That flower is literally a soulless little _parasite_. And that _attitude!_ How do you keep yourself from just _stomping_ on him?”

Even through his laughter, Sans could feel the drastic shift in the mood almost instantly. It was as if the human had turned to ice. The skeleton’s laughter petered off awkwardly. The human went quiet. _Dead quiet._ He couldn’t even hear her breathing.

“Pipsqueak? You okay?” he grunted sitting up a little. A pause.

 

“Never mind.” The human said calmly. “I’ll take care of it myself. Thanks.” The skeleton squinted.

 

“Hey…lighten up bucko, I said I’d feed him didn’t I?” Sans growled raising his brows. The human didn’t speak for a moment. Though he thought he heard her taking several deep breaths.

 

“Don’t.” Daphne mumbled. “I’ll handle it.”

“Uh. Heh. It’s no big deal. I’ll grab some _grub_ and head over to your place in a _lily_ bit.” Sans made a stab at humor, but it fell flat. The human took another breath.

“No. Thank you. Stay home.” the edge in her voice hardened like the edge of a blade. Another breath. “I don’t want you there.”

Sans’ nonexistent throat went dry. Oh. Oh he’d screwed up. What had he done? The human was…. _Angry_? _Annoyed_? _Anxious_? He couldn’t tell which. Her voice was always so calm, it was hard to get a good read on her. But damn. She was clearly upset. _Very_ upset. Sans wracked his brain. Where did all this animosity come from? He got his answer moments later in the form of a low, carefully controlled hiss. One that sent shivers dancing up and down his spine.

“Listen. Do **not** go over to my flat. I’m serious. If you even _think_ about hurting my flower… **YoU aNd Me aRe GoNnA hAvE a PrObLeM…”**

 

Oh.

 _Oh_ …

“Whoa…easy Pipsqueak.” Sans muttered. “I wasn’t actually serious about stomping on him. I was joking. It was a….uh… _figure of speech_?”

 

The human didn’t respond for a while. Long enough for the skeleton to start feeling a bit uneasy. He was almost certain the human was harmless. She’d never shown any signs of aggression, and she seemed level headed enough not to attack out of fear or surprise like other humans might. She was… _safe_. She could be trusted around monsters without the worry that she might go flying off the handle and dust someone. But even so, something about her tone made the skeleton all kinds of nervous. Though he couldn’t explain why. Hell, maybe he just didn’t want to ruin the relationship and lose his newest source of information. Veiled threats be damned. After a long moment, the human spoke. Her voice returning to its usual composed grunt.

 

 “He likes chicken gnochi soup from _Olive Garden_. If they don’t have that then you can get him the zuppa toscana. But if you do that you’ll have to pick the parsley out because he won’t eat it otherwise. Make sure he gets a good six ounces. Eight is ideal, but he gets fussy and if you try to keep feeding him when he’s not into it, he’ll knock the bowl over on you.  Its best to keep him distracted with TV when you feed him. The DVD for Saw II is already in the machine. Just turn it on the TV and press play on the small grey remote. Oh. And spray him three times with the water bottle. Aim for the stem. If it gets in his face he’ll give you an earful. And  No more than three squirts or he’ll get root-rot. Understand?”

 

Sans stared at his knees as he took it all in. How on earth had this happened? How did someone like her get mixed up with a soulless little parasite like Flowey? Sans glowered teeth clenching. That _weed_ didn’t _deserve_ her patience.

 

“Pipsqueak…How long have you been taking care of Flowey like this?” Sans asked slowly. The human hmmed.

 

“About…five months now I guess. Why?”

 

Five months? The barrier has only been down for _six_. The skeleton squinted. Something wasn’t adding up. If Flowey had been so weakened after the barrier fell then _how_ did he manage to get to surface in the first place? Especially if he couldn’t even survive outside of a flowerpot with a friggin _saint-like_ little human hand feeding him every couple of hours? _How?_

 

Five months. _Five._ Sans’ eyes widened. The monster government hadn’t started granting visas for humans to visit the underground until about _two_ months ago. And even now, those Visas were really only ever given to government officials.  

 

“Yo? You still there Big-Guy? Ya get all of that?” Daphne asked. Sans let out a low rumble. A sound somewhere between disbelief and admiration.

 

“You slippery little snail…” Sans whistled. “You snuck into the underground. Didn’t you?” The human faltered.

 

“I plead the fifth.” She stated. The skeleton snorted.

 

“You _what_ the _what now_?”

 

“means I don’t gotta tell you jack shit.” Daphne retorted.

 

 “Heh. I’m not going to turn you in to my boss or nothin. I mean, I knew you’d been there before but I thought it was more recent than that.” Sans mused. “You know, like the _legal_ kind of recent.”

The human clicked her tongue, seeming to mull this over.

 

“Olive Garden closes in forty-five minutes. You should get a move on.” She mused. Sans groaned.

 

“You really gonna drop a bomb like that and expect me to just forget about it?” the skeleton rumbled. The human hesitated.

 

“Not…over the phone.” She finally said. There was a ringing noise followed by a flurry high pitched squeaks and yips, on the human’s end of the line. Daphne grunted. “Chow time for babies. I gotta go.”

“You really going to stay up all night feeding those things?” Sans sighed.

“Dave’s out of town. Nobody else around to do It.” the human shrugged. “Feed my flower before he throws a fit. Shoo.”

 

“Fine. Night Pipsqueak.” Sans growled.

 

“Night Big-guy.”

Click.

The line went dead.

 

 

Sans groaned shoving the phone into his pocket. The human had something _compelling_ to say for once and of course she’d chosen now of all times to clam up. Typical. The skeleton flopped back onto the sofa and studied the ceiling.

 

  _Five months._ She’d been in the underground wandering around all the way back then? Sans tried, but couldn’t seem to wrap his head around it. The barrier had just fallen a month earlier. And the first few weeks had been the hardest. The first month or so humans had been so scared, they wouldn’t even let monster come out any farther than the foothills of Ebbot. Unless they were a government type like Asgore or Frisk of course.  And that had only been for meetings and press releases.

 _Five months._ Damn.

Five months ago they were all still living in a shanty town of tents and campfires waiting in the shadow of Ebbot for some bigwig over in Washington to decide that the monsters weren’t going to melt them with heat vision or something. Humans didn’t come to Ebbot unless they were ambassadors or reporters that had managed to strong arm their way past all the yellow tape. And those were few and far between. Humanity was still in a state of panic. Still stunned by the fact that the creatures from their fairytales were not only real, but requesting green cards and working towards citizenship. They were terrified. They kept their distance. They watched with wonder, all tense and poised to attack if the monsters showed any sign of aggression. It was a stressful state of affairs on both sides of the issue. No one knew what to think.

Sans found it a bit ridiculous that the humans were as fearful as they were. After all, it was the monsters who were stepping into a new and possibly hostile world. It was the monsters who were the minority. The humans outnumbered them a thousand to one. They had the home field advantage. They had weapons and resources that the monsters lacked. They had the whole of the monster species pretty much surrounded on all sides, their cities and settlements dotted the area, clipping off any viable means of retreat aside from _back_ underground. And the humans had _experience_. Monsters had been under the mountain for over one thousand years. And since the war with humanity, their kind had more or less lived in peace with one another.

 After all, what did the monsters have to fight over? They were all trapped down there together. Despite their imprisonment, their propensity towards magic insured them that they would never want for food or water. And despite being all different _species_ of monsters, they still all were united under one kingdom. Who could they have raged war on? _Themselves_?

The idea of civil war was tossed around once or twice over the ages, but never pursued. The monsters were  far too accommodating for something like that. Too polite.

 Hell, they had to be. They were trapped in a very tiny cave together. Everyone was crammed in close quarters to each other. They had to develop a culture of politeness. They had to learn to share and look out for each other. Otherwise they wouldn’t survive. War was almost unthinkable in the underground. The only perceived threat was the thought that the humans might come down the mountain to finish what they started. And even that was pushing it. Any humans who entered the underground would not be able to leave. Sending troops down to them was a suicide mission. And they would have no way to confirm whether or not their efforts were successful. It was ludicrous.

Sans regretted their softness now. It had bred a naïve, overly trusting people. Sure they were kind. And sure they were generous. But kindness did little to stop a _bullet_. Sans had personally watched monsters die because they did not recognize Chara as a threat when they saw her. And now these same people were tossed headfirst into a world of full of _Charas_. A world of people who wouldn’t hesitate to wipe them off the map if they did or said the wrong thing.

These people ate, slept, lived and breathed _war_. Countless nations with countless tongues, governments, principalities, and ideas on how things should be. And each nation seemed to think their way of doing things was the ‘right’ way. No matter the country, the attitude was the same. _They_ were the civilized ones. Everyone _else_ was backwards. They were always at war with one another. Always finding some excuse to fight. To kill. They knew how to kill on a battle field. And more than that,  they knew how to kill with their _words_. How to use propaganda and paranoia to control what people thought.

It was like poetry really. Each word loaded, carefully crafted to fulfil a need. With the right words you could make anyone out to be the hero. You could make history into anything you wanted. You could exalt anyone you wanted. Demonize anyone you wanted. _Destroy_ anyone you wanted.

And the monsters had little to no concept of such things. They had just been shoved out into the cold, incriminating sun like lambs to the slaughter. They entered this sneering cynical world with their own brand of optimism. Sans had almost wanted to push everyone back inside. To throw the barrier back up and let everyone hide for another thousand years. He knew that wasn’t right. But it didn’t make the realization any less painful.

This world was going to _ruin_ his peaceful people. They were too innocent. Too soft for such a harsh place. It was going to demoralize them. Steal the light from their eyes.

They were lucky that the humans were afraid. The humans were warlike and unforgiving of offense. However they were not so keen on the idea of rushing into a war with an enemy they did not understand.

The humans didn’t know how Asgore and his government interacted politically with other nations. They knew next to nothing about the monsters’ technology, nor did they understand the nature of magic. But thanks to the constant flow of garbage from the surface, monsters knew quite a bit about human technology and governments. Or at least they understood more about humans than humans did about them. And that perhaps, is what saved them from a much more violent greeting during those first few weeks.

And that peace was maintained in the months to come due to the fact that no one wanted another war. The humans didn’t want to engage them without more information, and the monsters were more than willing to work with them in order to find a peaceful resolution. It was peace in name alone. A virtual cold war. Like both sides were tensed for an attack that never came.

Sans had been more on edge during those first few weeks than any other time. It took several weeks without attack for him to finally breathe easy and begin to enjoy the sun.

And _this_ was the environment in which Daphne had decided it was a good idea to sneak into the underground? The thought was absolutely staggering. Sans had barely had the nerves to step into a courthouse of fifty humans with Frisk during those early press conferences where he’d acted as bodyguard to the young ambassador.

Yet somehow, Daphne had gathered up the nerve to sneak into an entire kingdom of monsters by herself? He could understand some young rebellious humans sneaking in nowadays, when everything had calmed down and tension wasn’t quite so high. But back then? What could have possessed her to do such a thing? _Why_? And how? Asgore had kept the way in and out guarded to keep curious humans from sneaking in. Sans knew that. For a little while, he’d been one of the guys _guarding_ it. He would have seen something. The only other entrance was a sheer drop into a chasm. That whole area had been closed off to prevent anyone from getting injured. So how did she get up the mountain and through the gate without getting caught?

Things weren’t adding up. And Sans wasn’t nearly heh, _patient_ enough to sit around waiting for answers to come to him. He glanced at his phone. 12:42 P.M. The skeleton peeled himself up off of the sofa and wandered into the hall. He opened the door to Papyrus’ bedroom and slipped in. The tall skeleton was fast asleep. He wore his orange pajamas. The ones with an illustration of an old fashioned well printed on the chest. The words ‘sleep well’ scrawled beneath it in permanent marker.

Sans knelt down next to Papyrus’ bed. He leaned in close.

“Bro…hey bro…” he whispered. Papyrus mumbled something in his sleep but didn’t stir. Sans’ grin widened. “You forgot to calibrate your puzzles.” Papyrus’ brow wrinkled, eye sockets pinching together.

 

“…Puzzles…” the tall skeleton mumbled.

 

 “None of them are working… Bro _why_ aren’t you at your _station_?” Papyrus began tossing a little in his sleep.

“Noh…noh...I just recalibrated…s-s...”

Sans leaned in close to where his brother’s ear would have been.

 

“Pap…pap you gotta wake up! The humans are invading snowdin forest! Oh gosh they’re EVERYWHERE!”

 

Papyrus jolted upright in bed, nearly conking skulls with Sans as he threw himself out of bed.

 

“OH MY GOSH! CALL CAPTAIN UNDYNE SANS! OUT OF THE WAY! WHY AREN’T YOU AT YOUR STATION!?” The tall skeleton stumbled wildly nearly tripping over his own feet on his way to the closet. He started digging frantically through his clothing, all the while squawking incoherently. “N’YOH HO HO! THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING! WHERE IS MY BATTLE BODY!?” Papyrus had his armor halfway on over his pajamas before he seemed to realize where he was. Sans burst out laughing, arms clutched around himself. Papyrus stared, mouth slightly open before letting out a belabored groan and sinking to his knees.

 

 “SAAAAANS! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT TIME IT IS?” Papyrus yawned. He cast a glance at his alarm clock and groaned again, running a hand over his skull. “IT’S NOT FUNNY…YOU HAVE INTERUPTED MY CIRCADIUN RHYTHM. NOW I WILL HAVE TO SLEEP AN EXTRA HOUR AND A HALF IN ORDER TO GET THE FULL EIGHT HOURS OF REST.”

“Sorry bro.” Sans shrugged, not looking the least bit apologetic. “But it was the fastest way to wake you up.”

 

“THIS HAD BETTER NOT BE ANOTHER ONE OF YOUR CHILDISH PRANKS...” Papyrus groused. He slumped off to turn the light on and sat down on his bed.

 

“It not a prank bro. Honest... Kind of an emergency really.”

Papyrus was suddenly wide awake, his expression tightening.

“EMERGENCY? IS EVERYONE OKAY?”

 

“Everyone is fine Bro.” Sans assured. “I just need your help with something.”

 

“WHAT IS IT?” Papyrus asked, head cocking. Sans’ grin grew wider.

 

“Heh. You like puppies right?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friend's Webcomic: http://blue-eyes.smackjeeves.com/comics/2299424/chapter-1-pg-13/
> 
>  
> 
> TUMBLR account for this SFTD: http://sftdt.tumblr.com/


	38. INTERLUDE 6: Pieces (part 2)

AN: A very short update. But this one was kinda loaded and I wanted to keep it separate from the next chapter.

#### @ThrowawaySpecificallyForThisComment: Yeah, I got a kick out of it too. As for the bodyguard thing, I kind of always figured he’d end up doing something like that post-pacifist. With how paranoid he’d become about resets, I can see him wanting to keep a close eye on everything.

#### And as for Toriel, she’ll be here eventually. There really isn’t  a place for her to pop up yet in the story. No reason for it right now. But she’s coming soonish (hopefully) . Don’t worry.

 

 

#### @ eJ121: Haha, naw. He’s not going to use him perse. Sans just knows it’ll make him happy  and make everything that’s going to happen go a whole lot smoother. (Sides, I don’t think Flowey will let Sans feed him without a struggle. Attempted murder has a way of ruining casual relationships. XD  )

#### As for the other bits. You will seeeee. J

#### And thanks for asking about the road trip! I had a ton of fun. It was nice to be able to relax and yeah I did think of a few new plot things for this story along the way. I think you’ll like them. ;) 

 

 

 

#####################################################################################

 

 

INTERLUDE 6: Pieces (part 2)

 

 

The doctor said something. But the child didn’t hear.

 

There was a red balloon floating just outside the window. Somewhere out there, some kid must have lost their grip on the end of the string, and watched bleary eyed as their treasure drifted away. Now that string was tangled in the branches of the big alder tree outside of clinic. A child watched it from the window as the wind bobbed it in and out of view.

“Miss Juarez?”

The red balloon grazed the point of an alder branch. A large hand fell onto the child’s shoulder.

_The balloon popped._

“I apologize for missing our last appointment. Something came up at the last minute.” The doctor said. The child turned around to stare blankly up at him. “Come sit down and we’ll get started.” The child said nothing as she was led over to the shiny black leather sofa and sat herself down.

 

Dr. Selick was a tall gangly man in his late forties. He wore an untailored tweed jacket and a pair of spectacles. With his heavily balding head and wide mouth, the child thought he looked a bit like an ostrich. He settled into his chair across from the child.

 

“So. What would you like to talk about today Miss Juarez?” he asked. The child shrugged.

123.

 

“How are you liking your new school?” The child shrugged.

124.

Dr. Selick’s smile grew wider. He bridged his fingers. “I know it can be a little scary settling into a new place. Have you made any new friends?” The child’s eyes drifted back to the window where the now deflated balloon dangled dismally from a branch. She shrugged again.

125.

 

This was a game she started playing a little while back. No matter what the therapist asked she would answer with a non-committal shrug and a tight lipped smirk. She liked to count how many shrugs it would take for the doctor to give up and have her case transferred to a new therapist. It was a good game. She always won.

The last doctor hadn’t made it past 40 before he pawned her off onto Dr. Selick. His official explanation had been that he ‘thought she would benefit from a doctor with more hands on experience with violent trauma cases. But the child knew better. She’d scared him off.

 

“Do you like toffees miss Juarez? I’ve got a few here on my desk if you’d like some.” Selick mused. The child glanced in his direction, regarding the doctor. This one sure was determined. Wasn’t he? The child’s lips formed a mocking smirk. She shrugged.

 

126.

 

He wasn’t going to win anything from her. The child could last longer than he could. Sooner or later he’d crack.

“Still don’t want to talk with me?” The doctor regarded her with a sad smile.

Shrug.

127.

“I think you’re a lovely young lady, and I’d like to help you in any way that I can.” The doctor sighed. He crossed his long bony legs. “However, there isn’t much I can do for you if you don’t allow it.” The child said nothing. Another sigh.

 

“How is your journal coming?” The doctor said changing the subject. “Have you been writing out your feelings like I asked you to?”

She hadn’t. The child rapped her fingers over the shiny pink surface. It was a nice journal in her opinion. It was unlined and had a unicorn leaping over a rainbow on the cover. It had spiral binding on the top just how she liked it. The child was left handed, and she hated how regular binding smushed the side of her hand when she drew. The journal was an absolute treasure. She hoped they wouldn’t make her give it back when Dr. Selick finally gave up on her.

 

“Do you mind if I look at what you’ve written?” Dr. Selick asked. The child hadn’t written anything. So she shrugged.

128.

Selick seemed to take her shrug as an invitation and he reached over and gingerly took the book from her lap, flipping it open.

The front page had a drawing in colored pencils of an ostrich wearing spectacles and a tweed coat. The doctor’s eyes widened. A speech bubble with the words ‘blah blah blah’ floated above the bird’s head. The title at the top of the page read ‘Boring Dr. Ostrich.’

 

Dr. Selick stared at the page, mouth slowly coming open. Then he _laughed_. The child’s head came up in surprise. Her nose wrinkled.

 

“Is this _me_?” Selick beamed. “This is brilliant Miss Juarez! I had no idea you did this!” The child dropped her eyes, face growing hot. She played with the hem of her shirt as the doctor flipped through page after page of doodles. His smile growing wider.

“You did all of these in one week? That’s really impressive!” The doctor said squinting at another drawing. His smile twitched and slowly formed a line when he flipped to one of the last pages. The page covered in angry red and black scratches. The marks were erratic and in some places she had rubbed holes in the paper from pressing down too hard with her colored pencils. The title was a run on sentence of every profanity the child knew. Selick’s gaze lingered on this page longer than the others before he closed the book. His smile returned.

 

“You really like drawing, don’t you miss Juarez.”

 

“Uh huh.”

The word left the child’s mouth before she even realized what she had done. Her face flushed and she scowled quickly correcting her slip with an evasive shrug.

_One hundred and twenty…twenty…_

_Shoot._

She’d lost count.

Now the doctor was looking at her again. His stupid ostrich eyes twinkling. The child turned her red face away with a huff. What was he so happy about?

 

“Miss. Juarez…Its…it’s alright. You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to.” Selick said. The child blinked, eyes darting to his face. He was serious. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about what happened. I’m not going to force you.”

The child’s heartrate sped up.

 _He’s lying_. _What did he think he was doing? This wasn’t how it was supposed to go._

“Just please promise me you’ll keep drawing. It’s not…it’s not good keeping things bottled up inside. At some point you have to let it all out.”

The child’s fists tightened.

 

_What do you want from me?_

 

“If you don’t want to talk about what you’re feeling. Or…if you _can’t_ … It’s okay to _draw_ it instead. Trust me. It doesn’t have to be pretty or make sense. You don’t even have to think about what you’re drawing. Just keep your pencil moving until you feel better. I promise it _will_ help.” The child felt a warm hand on her shoulder, as the beautiful pink book was slipped back into her hands. She raised her eyes to stare at the doctor.

“Can you do that for me Daphne?” he asked. The child took the journal and pressed it to her chest like a security blanket. For some reason she felt like crying. And for some reason, she didn’t care that boring Dr. Ostrich was there to see it.

“Y….yeah…” Daphne whispered with a tiny shrug. The doctor smiled.

_One hundred and twenty something._

_Game_.

 

 ########################################################################################

 **Note to my lovely readers:** Yep! So I started a little side comic for this story. Its called Sympathy for the Reader. 

Whenever I write a chapter, I usually like to re-read it and think about how it all must look to those reading it. I always wonder if this will be the chapter where everyone puts the clues together and comes to a correct conclusion about a mystery or reveal. Its exciting for me to read your comments and hear your thought processes while reading the story. 

But thinking about how readers must think and feel also tends to create weird/funny scenarios in my brain about what people are feeling. So I thought I'd start drawing some of the more hilarious (in my opinion atleast) things that I imagine readers thinking. 

Just keep in mind....

 

 

 **Please** don’t be offended by anything iI make the ‘reader’ say in these comics. The anon reader does not represent any particular one of you. Its a strawman.

These comics are basically just stuff I thought was funny and wanted to doodle. I’m really just poking fun at tropes and such.  You are all awesome.

 

#########################################################################

 

The idea of a reader getting after Sans for not doing the sex makes me all kinds of happy. Mostly because these characters are barely friends at this point. And their reasons for spending any amount of time together are anything but romantic.

Again, if you like this ship or are offended, please don’t be. I’m not bashing anything. I’m just making jokes. XD

 

 

Also, I'm probably going to update this comic on Tumblr before I add them to chapter updates. so if you want to see them early feel free to head over to.

http://sftdt.tumblr.com/ 

 

Gonna go hide under a rock now. Bye. 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	39. INTERLUDE 6: Pieces (part 3)

**AN:**

**Why do I enjoy tormenting characters that I like? XD**

 

**@[Merween](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Merween/pseuds/Merween): hey thanks! :) I'm glad you enjoy the OC's. Seems like most people hate stories centered around original characters. But then, I don't really blame them for that. XD**

 

**@[Regent_Maxa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Regent_Maxa/pseuds/Regent_Maxa): I hear ya. Pretty sure Toby Fox came out and said that Sans was way too lazy for any kind of romantic relationship. (at least thats what I've heard. Don't quote me on it) But he definitely needs _someone_   to talk to. Especially after all he's been through. Sans strikes me as the type of person who is outwardly friendly to everyone, and has a ton of friends, but never allows himself to get close to any of them. His relationships are superficial and people only ever see the parts of him that he allows them to see. So in order to develop him a little (and further the plot a ton) He needed to be foiled with someone analytical he couldn't lie to. Someone at least a little bit jaded that he wasn't afraid he was going to ruin by telling them his problems. Aaaand someone who would initiate things. Sans probably wouldn't have ever seen Daphne again if she hadn't waltzed over to his house, told him he was taking her out to eat, and then forced him to do it. Soooooo foils. XD I guess they're a thing in this. **

 

**@ThrowawaySpecificallyForThisComment: ha. I knew at least one person would make that joke. XD**

 

**@[K4ll3x](http://archiveofourown.org/users/K4ll3x/pseuds/K4ll3x): be safe...**

 

**@eJ121: Yep. We're definitely no where near finished. Its kinda daunting, but I appreciate that you all stick with it for the long haul. Make yourself comfortable. Slow burn ahead.**

 

**###############################################################################################################**

 

INTERLUDE 6: Pieces (part 3)

 

 

Papyrus was entirely too happy to see Flowey. At least in Sans' opinion. More than once he'd had to rein Papyrus back so he wouldn't wake the neighbors. And it took a great deal of convincing to keep the taller skeleton from rushing off to whip up special 'happy friendship reunion spaghetti’. Sans finally dissuaded him by saying Flowey didn’t like pasta. Sans didn't bother explaining to Papyrus that the flower had no teeth. He wouldn't have been surprised if papyrus had insisted on pre chewing the spaghetti for him so he could enjoy the wonders of friendship pasta unhindered.

 

True. It would've been hilarious to see Papyrus trying to shove pre chewed pasta down the little demons throat. But Sans thought better of it. This needed to be a short visit. He had other business to attend to.

 

The moment they arrived the younger skeleton lit up like a Christmas tree and went bounding over. He snatched up the flowerpot and began a very eager (and loud) narrative about everything he'd done and seen since coming to the surface.

 

Sans lingered in the doorway watching as his brother gushed over the soulless little creep. His thoughts turned back to their last run in that night when the barrier fell. How much of it did papyrus remember? The details of the incident had been murky. Hell, Sans wasn’t even completely sure what had gone down.  Did papyrus even realize that the flower had used him? That his so called friend had attacked and threatened everyone he knew and loved? 

 

The tall skeleton rattled on blithely and the flower glowered turning his face away in distain. But he didn't _interrupt_ him. His small black eyes darting over to Sans and the smaller skeleton grinned terribly back at him. Bringing Papyrus had been the right move. There was no way on god’s green earth Flowey was going to let Sans hand feed him like a baby bird. And Sans had neither the time nor patience to wrestle him over it.  

Attempted murder has a way of making things…

_Awkward._

 

The look Flowey had given Sans when he'd flashed into the room said it all. His eyes had gone wide and darting, vines curling inwards like pinwheels towards his stem. A furious panicked sneer formed on his cartoonish face. The weed clearly believed he was in for a bad time. Not an unreasonable thought considering his history with the skeleton. Or the fact that his patient little _meat shield_ just so happened to be unexpectedly 'called away' leaving him alone in their little flat...

 

Flowey only relaxed when he heard papyrus come thundering over to him with a big sloppy grin. Flowey was clearly irritated. But to his credit he held his tongue and allowed the skeleton to scoop him up and cradle him, pot and all to his chest.

“I AM SO HAPPY YOU ARE DOING WELL! IF I THE GREAT PAPYRUS HAD KNOWN YOU WERE HERE, I WOULD HAVE VISITED SOONER!” Papyrus gushed. Flowey gave of an insulted huff. His leaves were more wilted and browned than ever before, and he was missing one or two of his petals.  It was clear to see that flower was in the worst health of his life. But a grin from Sans caused him to bite down an insult and swallow.

Sans held the flower’s gaze until Flowey huffed and turned away. Sans’ smile grew wider. They had come to an understanding. Good.

 This was a peaceful visit. At least this time around. Anywhere Papyrus was welcome was neutral ground as far as Sans was concerned. And the Flowey knew it.  The skeleton wouldn't do anything extreme with his baby brother watching.

 

_So long as the weed played nice._

 

 

"AND LOOK. YOU MADE A FRIEND..”  Papyrus hummed with happiness settling down on the sofa, his free hand still stroking Flowey’s petals. Flowey bit down on the insides of his cheeks. "I KNEW YOU COULD DO BETTER."

 The flower’s lips formed a tight line, and he suddenly seemed very interested in a stain on the carpeting. There were a lot of stains. Especially around the sofa where Flowey ate his dinner.

 Sans turned the television on as papyrus eagerly spooned up some of the soup. The flowers eyes returned to Sans an lingered there. Even when papyrus made a horrible airplane noise and as he stuck the baby spoon into the weed's mouth he held his tongue, searching the smaller skeleton with his eyes. Sans winked and pulled out his quantum physics joke book. He leaned in the corner and buried his face in it. The flower didn’t look away.

“OPEN UP THE HANGER SO THE PLANE CAN COME IN! AHHH!” Papyrus urged. The flower’s cheeks went orange. But to Sans’ surprise he opened up and let Papyrus do what he wanted. It was bizarre. Seeing Flowey this complacent. Pipsqueak had said that he sometimes knocked hot bowls of soup over on her when she tried to feed him. Sans could definitely see Flowey doing something like this. But as hard as he tried, he couldn’t imagine Daphne getting angry at him or yelling over it. She’d probably just get up, get  a towel and silently start cleaning it up. All while the weed laughed and jeered at her. Sans’ eyes fell onto the many colorful food stains on the carpet.

“EH, FLOWEY? WHAT’S THE MATTER?” Papyrus asked. The flower didn’t reply. His stem had gone stiff, petals drawing close around his face as he stared wildly in Sans’ direction. “SANS? ARE YOU ALRIGHT? WHY ARE YOU FLARING YOUR EYE?”

Huh?

Sans blinked, realizing what he was doing. The magic faded from his eye. He grinned at his brother, forcing down the inexplicable bubble of rage that had risen in his chest.

“Heh. Sorry bro. **Eye** was spacing out. Didn’t mean to **lash** out or anything.” Sans snorted.

 

“NYEH! SANS! YOU ARE SPOILING DINNER WITH YOUR RIDICULOUS PUNS!”  Papyrus groaned. Sans’ grin doubled in size. He shrugged.

“ **Eye** don’t **see** how my puns are so **cornea** , Bro. **Eye** like em.”

Papyrus spiraled into another tirade of groans and grumbles as he turned back to continue feeding the flower. Sans let out a sigh from between his clenched teeth. Yep. Bringing Papyrus along had been a good call. Flowey was a _Grade A_ jackass. Sans knew that. But he hadn’t expected to get _that_ angry so fast. What was the matter with him? He normally had such good control of his anger. Sure, he had his berserker buttons. But it was rare for anyone to push him far enough to get a genuine rise out of him. He took a deep breath, and looked back at his book.

 

But Flowey didn’t look away. He kept staring at Sans, his vines rolled tight against his stem. He allowed Papyrus to feed him making no comments to the skeleton's prattling aside from the occasional eye roll. Sans assumed he must be embarrassed to be seen in such a helpless state. He—like Sans— must have wanted to get this meeting over with as quickly as possible.

But still. The flower's strangely docile behavior _irked_ him a bit. It wasn’t _normal_. But then, Sans had never seen the weed so defenseless before either. Sans kept his attention glued to the book pages until he felt flower's eyes leave him. He waited. One minute. Two. He changed a glance. Flowey's attention had returned to the television and he seemed to be making a considerable effort to ignore Papyrus' existence.

 

Sans took a breath. Then winked out of existence.  He reformed silently inside of the human's bedroom. Five minutes. Ten at the most. Any longer and Papyrus would notice he was gone. Get in. Work fast. And get out.

 

Sans looked around. It wasn’t a very large room. And the fact that it seemed to double as her art studio just made it feel more crampt. The human had left the radio on to a frequency between stations. Ambient  white noise constantly poured from the speakers, filling the room. Most likely to drown out noisy neighbors or the constant beeping and honking of traffic outside. 

 

90% of the room was an unorganized mess of art supplies, paintings, and clothing strewn all around. Sans couldn’t take more than a two steps without a paintbrush or a bag of pastels getting underfoot. He did a quick sweep with his eyes not entirely sure what he was looking for. Carefully, the skeleton picked his way through the room, keeping his eyes on his feet so as not to crush any of the human’s possessions. His discretion earned him a wet shirt in the face, when he walked straight into the Daphne’s clothesline. He cursed under his breath as several wet articles of clothing flopped to the ground.

 

The skeleton stooped low and began hurriedly gathering up the clothing. He grumbled doing his best to  re hang each shirt the way he found it. When he was finished he straightened, scratching the back of his skull with a deep scowl.

 

Sans was no stranger to snooping. Back in the day he’d kept an eye socket on Frisk as she picked her way through the underground. And more than once, he’d done a few slightly illegal things to keep Asgore in the know about his human visitors. It was more than just a job he sometimes did under the table. Ever since the barrier fell, Sans had made a point to keep tabs on all potential threats to Asgore’s reign. And after Frisk’s death, that compulsion went from cautious, to _hypervigilant_. He always had to know. And he lived as if every terrible thing that could happen, _would_ happen. That way, it was less likely a threat could creep up and catch them unawares.

 

Control information. Learn as much as you can about others while revealing as little as possible about yourself. Learn so much that you can almost eradicate all uncertainty. Uncertainty was dangerous. _Deadly_.

 

He knew how it was all supposed to go.

 

Never mind that his job description was slowly growing as he took on more slack. And his actual position in all of this madness was growing murkier by the day. He was a scientist. Sentry. Bodyguard. Watchdog. Investigator. Escort. Glorified bouncer.

_And a number of other things that didn’t have quite such eloquent titles._

 It just kept piling on as the skeleton spread himself thinner and thinner.  But that was fine. He’d do whatever Asgore needed him to do. Be whatever everyone needed him to be. So long as everyone was safe.

 

Sans let out a tired huff. He didn’t used to be like this. And it wasn’t until moments like these, that the monster really started to see just how far removed he was from the man he used to be.  He was used to spying. To keeping tabs and gathering information. But still...

 

Espionage was not supposed to feel _this_ awkward. 

 

Sans stooped low to pass under the clothesline, picking his way uncomfortably through the human’s bedroom. Every time the house creaked or someone moved in the other room, the skeleton would freeze. Damn. What was wrong with him? He’d never been so jumpy about this sort of thing before. He was always focused, perceptive. Ready for anything.

 

But then.

 

He'd never spied on a _woman_ before. And sneaking around the bedroom of a young _human_ woman of all things, felt extremely creepy to the skeleton. And for the first time in—hell who knows how long?—Sans felt genuinely guilty about snooping.

Its because she wasn’t someone _important_. He told himself.

Daphne wasn’t some gang leader using the underground census as a glorified hit list. Nor was she some political slime ball looking to dig up dirt on the king either. She was just some kid who mucked out animal pens for a living.  As far as Sans knew, the human was virtually no threat to their society at all.

 

The wrongness of invading her privacy tugged at him so much more than he expected it to. But he forced himself to keep searching. His snooping wasn’t completely unfounded. The human snuck into the underground during a time of political unrest. That was _more_ than enough to justify taking a closer look. She'd done something illegal. And while he highly doubted he would end up turning her in for anything--Sans needed to know why.

 

Sans didn't like uncertainty. He needed facts. Something to hang his hat on. Some damning bit of evidence to explain her involvement in all of this. To put his curiosity to rest. He needed the truth and he didn't trust her enough not to lie to him.  The human was so infuriatingly difficult to read that Sans wasn’t confident he would be able to weed out a lie if it came from her. And that ambiguity was what irked him so much.

 

 _He wasn’t used to performing for an audience he couldn’t read._   

 

Sans tried the closet. Clothing was piled on the floor in clumps. A huge stack of books sat in the corner reaching nearly to his waist. On closer inspection they appeared to be sketchbooks.

 _Just how many did one person need_? Sans began growing more and more frustrated. There was no organization. Everything was thrown together in complete chaos.  And while he wasn’t really one to talk when it came to neatness, the skeleton knew he had a limited amount of time to look around before Papyrus or Flowey realized he was gone. And without any reason or rhyme to how things were organized—How was he supposed to figure out what was really important? What objects and factors he should focus in on, and which for _brevity’s_ sake should be ignored?

He scoured the room, looking for something—anything that seemed out of place.

 

 

There.

 

The light table.

 

There was a makeshift shelf beneath it, probably used for easily accessing tools. But unlike everything else in the room, this shelf was _clean_. The space was free of paint tubes or brushes. There were no wadded up pieces of paper or gum wrappers either. It was all perfectly organized. He  crouched down to have a look.

 

The shelf held only three objects.  A large thick book. A wooden jewelry box, and what looked like an animal mask all spread neatly in a row.

_Bingo._

Sans cleared a  space on the floor for himself so he wouldn’t have to squat. Then  he picked up the large book and flipped it open.

 

When he saw the contents he felt a little disappointed.

Oh.

Just a photo album. He gave the album an idle sweep. The first few pages were blank. But Sans could see the little yellow blobs of dried glue dotting the pages here and there. The photos must have been removed. The skeleton flipped right through, not planning to linger long on anything that didn’t jump out at him. He didn’t have much time as it is.He got to pages with actual photos soon and—big shocker—they were filled with people he didn’t know. He began skipping chunks of pages and was about to put the book away when he noticed something interesting in one of the photos.

 

It was a family portrait. No. That wasn’t right. It was the picture right _before_ a family portrait. one of those photos that you’d take first and then throw away because someone blinked or sneezed at a weird moment and ruined the shot.

 

The group was standing around. Half of them weren’t even looking at the camera. It was that moment of chaos while everyone was trying to get posed together in a way that everyone would be visible. There must have been dozens of people. But Sans was still pretty sure it was all one family.  They looked too much alike not to be.

 

Almost all of them had heaps and heaps of curly black hair, dimples, and skin the color of one of Papyrus’ expensive lattes. They were a cheery looking bunch. All the adult males had the same long noses. The female adults were more varied in appearance. Most had dark hair and eyes like the men. But only two of them had the same puffy hair and long noses. And the _children_.

_Damn._

 

 There were loads and loads of children. Children laughing, wrestling, making faces, pouting, and fighting with one another while a heavy set woman with red lips attempted to reign them in. And mixed in with the veritable dogpile of rowdy children, stood a very pale very thin little girl. Her face was thin, with high prominent cheekbones. And her long hair was the color of sunlight.  It made her stick out from the crowd like a yellow-spotted Temmie.

 

Sans stared. It took the monster a moment to realize. It was _Daphne_.  She was almost unrecognizable from the human Sans had bought too many drinks. Not because of her lack of green hair. Or even the fact that she _looked_ all that different as a child.

 

_But because she was smiling._

 

No, more than just smiling.  She was laughing. A real, pink faced open mouthed _laugh_.

 The skeleton looked closer at each photo, easily picking her out of crowds. In most of them, she was playing and wrestling with the same four boys. Some even had her pulling goofy faces and mugging to the camera.

She was _grinning_. The monster didn’t even know her small pursed mouth was even capable of taking that shape. Her hair was an absolute rat’s nest piled on top of her head and clipped in a messy clump. She was always barefoot, drowning in sweaters big enough to be dresses. And damn, was she messy.  In nearly every photograph she had big colorful stains all down the hem of her sleeves and front, like her natural state was always coated in a layer of paint.

The skeleton had to admit. The little ragamuffin was _cute_. In one photo she had pinned one of the younger boys down and appeared to be hocking a loogie in his face. Sans snorted.

 

_Brat._

 

He kept flipping, trying not to waste too much time on the book. The rest of the pictures were more or less the same anyway. Big family.  Parties outside. Scores of wild children running amok. _Laughter_.

 

The only thing that really seemed to change was _Daphne_. Around twelve or thirteen, she was no longer barefoot and seemed to have discovered how to use a comb. The colorful splotches on Daphne’s clothes were gone. All that color seeming to migrate to her head. She’d dyed big pink and green streaks into her long yellow mane. The colors were so extreme, that her head looked like a little hairy watermelon at certain angles. A few of the pictures had little titles scribbled at the bottom in a childish script.

 

Sans had to suppress a laugh at one of them. It featured Daphne and half a dozen other young humans all squeezed together in a pile. They appeared to all be hugging a teenage boy who was wearing a paper crown. They were making silly cooing faces, and Daphne, who was the closest to the boy, had one of his cheeks pinched between her fingers, while she pretended to give the other cheek a smooch.

The boy in question was absolutely _livid_. Red-faced and snarling with embarrassment as he tried to elbow and push his way out of the groups embrace. He didn’t appear to be having much luck.

The title beneath the photo was surrounded by little hearts.

 

**'Wittle Javier is the meat in an idiot sandwich. >//3//< '**

 

Sans grinned. This _had_ to be the younger brother.  Every ten or so pages, there would be empty spaces with glue stains where more of the pictures had been removed. Any titles or notes that had been written about the missing pictures were scratched out with black sharpie. There were few empty spaces in the middle of the album. But pages and pages of them at the beginning and the end.

 

Sans checked his watch. He’d blown two and a half minutes already. He put the album back where he found it and quickly reached for the jewelry box.

 

Daphne didn’t strike him as the type to wear jewelry. So the fact that this jewelry box _had_ no jewelry wasn’t too surprising. Instead, he found a small stack of photos. The skeleton spread them out on the ground so he could see them all at once and get through them faster.

 

There was a weather beaten photo of a pale man and a woman with yellow hair. The woman looked a lot like Daphne did now. And not just in _appearance_.  The woman looked exhausted. Her face lined before its time from stress. Sans frowned, turning to the rest.

There were a few more pictures of Daphne, looking a lot younger than the ones he’d already seen. Taken it seemed, during her time with the large family. But her smile was gone. She scowled emotion looking straight at the camera. In others she was looking away, or off by herself. She looked stiff in the arms of the plump red-lipped woman. Distant. The skeleton frowned. This was the Daphne Sans knew. He recognized her immediately. And for some reason that discovery made his  non-existent stomach knot up.

 

He turned to the next group of photos. There was one of her as a teenager shoving a boy's face into his birthday cake. There were several photos of this scene.  And in each one Daphne wore a big impish smirk. By the last photo the messy boy had managed to scrape the white frosting from his face and was proceeding to hold Daphne down so he could rub the mess of it into her cheeks.

 

There was actually a title on the back of one.

Marcos Job 13th birthday.

 

Sans snorted. Probably another brother. He turned to the next. Daphne and the boy were a little older. Maybe late teens. They were all cuddled up together on a trampoline. Sans’ eye socket twitched. The boy—Marcos—was _grabbing her rear._

The skeleton grimaced. Scratch that. Definitely _not_ siblings.

Sans was beginning to see a pattern in these. A photo of what was probably her birth parents. A lot of pictures of her being a sour child. And some happier ones with a boy. Old boyfriend. He decided. She wouldn't have taken them out of the album if they were still together. From the look of it they’d practically grown up together.

Must have ended badly.

There was only one picture left at the bottom of the box.  But it made absolutely no sense. The picture was almost completely black with unidentifiable whitish grayish blobs all around the edges. Sans’ brows knit up.

The center had another weird blob. He turned the photo this way and that just In case he was holding it upside down. But for the life of him couldn't figure out what it was supposed to be.  Maybe the film got ruined while being developed? It looked pretty warped. He turned it over and as predicted, found the tell-tale signs of dried glue and ripped paper.

 

Why did she bother ripping this one out of the album? Crappy childhood memories Sans could understand.  Ex boyfriend? _Sure_. But why take out such a random blurry print?  Hell, why put it into an album in the first place? What made it so important?

He studied the photo again more closely and noticed a title scrawled messily on the white trim at the bottom.

 **‘Six weeks'** was all it said.

 

Sans shook his head with a growl. He was wasting time again. He put the photos back and placed the jewelry box carefully back on the shelf. He then turned his attention to the final object.

 

It was an animal mask roughly the size of his hand. The grey clay had been expertly worked and sculpted into the face of a horned owl. The surface was hand painted to look like tawny feathers. The ‘horns’ were made from actual feathers inlaid one on top of another to form a dramatic arch. Sans reached over to pick it up. The moment his hand touched the surface, he knew he’d made a mistake.

_No…_

The clay beneath his palm felt a bit goopy. _Wet_.

_No no no nononnono_

The skeleton felt his soul shrivel in on itself like a prune.

 _Oh_.

The mask wasn't settled so carefully on the shelf for sentimental reasons. But because it had been _drying_.

Sans grit his teeth so tightly that his jaw began to ache. Slowly— _very slowly_ , he lifted his hand  off of the mask.

Paint. Browns, golds, and creams, in partially crusty clumps covered his palm. He swallowed lowering his eyes to take a look at his **hand** iwork.

_Heh…_

_Handiwork._

_Heh…._

_I am so royally, **dunked** right now…_

 

The mask was _ruined_. The intricate little markings and designs around the owl’s eyes were smeared into misshaped, multicolored globs. The right feather horn had gotten smushed, sliding all the way down till it rested just beneath the beak. It now looked as if the owl was sporting half of a very long swooping Mustache.

The skeleton stared clenching his fist so tight that the oil and the pigment in the paint began to separate and seep out from between his fingers.

What the hell was he going to do now? He tried to stay calm as he carefully lifted the mask up and brought it over to the human’s work desk. Maybe it wasn’t completely ruined. Maybe he could… _fix it_?

The skeleton looked on the ground around his feet until he found a brush with bristles that looked small enough for detail work. It was very thin—much smaller around than a pencil. He appraised the mask ,brush poised awkwardly between his fingers. Sans grimaced, his hands suddenly seeming very large and clumsy to him.

 _Fix it_. He had to fix it.  Make it looked the way it had before he’d gotten his _hands_ (heh) on it. He could do that right? He just needed…more _paint_? Yes. Paint over the mistakes. Some of the details hadn’t been smudged. He could use those as a reference. Just… redo it. _Good_.

Aside from arts and crafts back way back in diaper school, Sans had never actually painted anything before.  But It couldn’t be that difficult could it?

The human had a bunch of little white paint tubes on her work desk. Sans rifled through them, trying to find the colors she’d used in the first place. It must’ve been some kind of high end art snob brand of paint, because the tubes weren’t color coded. In fact they all looked about the same. And they had these pretentious, made up sounding names for each color. No plain ‘red’ or ‘blue’. No. Instead they were labled things like burnt umber, cyclamen, and rose taupe. The skeleton grew more and more anxious, with every unfamiliar name.

Why? Why was this happening? Why did it have to be complicated? Why couldn’t red just friggin be _red?_

He finally started unscrewing the lids to see the colors himself. He squirted a tiny glob of each onto his already messy hand.

Burnt umber was brownish red.

_Good._

 Rose taupe was reddish grey.

_Cool._

Cyclamen was the color of Mettaton’s shiny pink ass.

 Yes. Good. He was learning. He could do this.

Sans dipped the end of the brush into the tube labeled ‘barely beige’ and brought it slowly towards the mask. His hands were shaking.

_Shit. Calm down. Calm down._

He steeled himself and carefully touched the tip of his brush to the surface of the mask. Nothing exploded. He let out the breath he’d been holding and started spreading the paint around. It was working. It was actually starting to look a little better! That is, until he ran his brush over one of the dark paint blobs that had formed beneath the owl’s eyes. His paint wouldn’t cover it. It smeared. Putting more layers of barely beige over the smears didn’t help either. The amalgamation of pigments started to blend together, turning from a multicolored blob, into a pale greenish brown.  It was ugly. Like the color of human vomit.

“Damnit!”

  The skeleton slammed his  fist against the desktop in sheer frustration. _What was he doing wrong?_ The act, dislodged the thin paint covered brush from its place, and it fell off the desk, and clattered to the floor, rolling under the bed. Sans hissed letting out a quiet string of profanities. He knelt down and angrily shoved his hand under the bed in the area he’d seen the brush roll.

His hand fell over something soft and unfamiliar. It made a wet little clap the second he made contact. The skeleton grimaced.

Right.

He still had paint all over his hands.

  _Perfect_.

 _Welp! let’s see what else I utterly ruined today._ It wasn’t as if things could get any worse than they already were.  With another clenching hiss, Sans closed his hand around the object and pulled it out into the open.  

The moment he saw what he had, he _threw_ it, letting out a horrified choke as if he’d just touched a mangy rabies infested sewer rat. Every drop of magic in Sans’ body flooded into his cheekbones.

No expletive the skeleton could think up could ever _fully_ express how royally _screwed_ he was.

He’d grabbed one of the human’s _bras_.

There was now a smear of brownish paint spanning both of the tiny white cups. The shape was obvious. A single, inhumanly large and unmistakable handprint.

_Oh hell no._

The entire building _pulsed_. Somewhere nearby a train must have been passing. Sans didn’t hear the whistle, but he definitely felt it as it rumbled past. The radio started picking up interference, growing louder. It was tuning but never settling on an actual station.

Sans stared blankly at the ruined garment. If he had hair, he’d probably be tearing it out of his head right then.

“SANS?” Papyrus’ voice called from the living room. “ITS TIME TO LEAVE! WHERE DID YOU RUN OFF TO?”

Sans felt a shiver dance its way up and down his spine. He could explain the _owl_. He could talk his way out of that. It would be awkward and he would have to admit to being in her room but he could manage it. Say he thought it was pretty and was curious. That sort of thing.

 

But there was no possible way he was _ever_ going to be able to talk his way out of _this_.

He couldn’t leave it there for her to find. Nope. Bad. Couldn’t clean it, it was white. Well it used to be anyways. Sans swallowed.

 

“SANS?”  The doorknob started moving. The skeleton acted on impulse. He grabbed the garment, wadded it up into a ball and shoved it into his hoodie pocket. The door opened, and Papyrus peeked in, frowning.

 

“SANS? WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THE TINY GREEN HUMAN’S BEDROOM?” he asked, squinting. Sans forced a slightly manic grin.

“Heh sorry. I was just looking at her art stuff.” He wiped his forehead on the back of his sleeve. Papyrus glanced around.

 

“HAVE YOU CORUPTED THE HUMAN WITH YOUR TERRIBLE MESSY HABITS?”  He accused. “THIS ROOM IS AS MESSY AS YOURS!”

 

“Naw. Not quite up to my level yet. Pretty sure it’s a **work in progress.”**  

Papyrus groaned but was placated turning off into the hallway. Sans followed, struggling to keep the wide sloppy grin from sliding right off his face and shattering to the ground.

So.

 Where did that leave him?

Ah yes.

He’d snuck into a human woman’s bedroom in the middle of the night. Rifled through her personal items. Destroyed her property, wasted her fancy expensive paint, and made off into the night with her _underwear_. Uh. _Bra_. Same thing.

_Wow._

_Dad would be crying from the dust if he could see me now._

                                                                               

Sans was utterly drained. It had been a long, frustrating night and it was far from over. He managed to convince Papyrus to take the car and go on a coffee run to the service station. They could meet up at the shelter afterwards. The idea of Papyrus driving around alone in the human part of town made him extremely nervous. But it couldn’t be helped. Sans had to get away so he could do a little damage control. It was almost 2 am. No one would be on the streets to see him and Sans could always use a shortcut to get him home. He’d pick up the car himself in the morning.

Once Papyrus was gone he fished the bra out of his pocket. The stain where he’d cupped (heh) it was beginning to dry, leaving crumbly bits of paint everywhere. Sans pulled a face. He got several grocery sacks  wrapped the bra up in them. He layered bag over bag until the package was unrecognizable. Then he slipped off to the dumpster, moved aside several bags of rubbish, and buried the evidence.

Sans was still blue faced when he returned to Daphne’s room. He cleaned up the paints as quietly as possible, taking probably more time than he should have to calm his panicking soul. He left again without incident, so mortified by the night’s events that he couldn’t focus on much of anything else.

 So he didn't think much on the weird radio disturbance. He didn’t question the shaking, or realize that there were no train stations, or tracks anywhere near Daphne’s flat. He didn’t notice the electricity in the air, or the stale taste of ozone. And he didn’t think on the static. Or even question what he thought he heard _behind_ it.

 

Somewhere in the static, in the white noise between stations with the faintest discharge of electronic crackle.

Someone had been _laughing_.

 

 ##########################################################################################################

Sympathy for the Reader (part 2) is here.

Gird up your loins. :)

 

**Its the only explanation...**

Yeah, sorry guys. I know I'm probably the only one who finds these funny. But I can't resist. XD

 

 


	40. INTERLUDE 7: Picking up the Pieces (part 1)

**AN:**

**I wondered if I should wait for Sans to figure this one out before revealing it to you all. I tried several versions. But they all felt a bit tedious. So I went for something like this.**

**This is another short one with a strange format. Hopefully you enjoy the feels and reveals.**

**And as always,**

**Please Don’t string me up in town square for all to see. I’m allergic to lynch mobs.**

**That being said…**

**On to comments!**

 

**@[Malik_likeswaffles](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Malik_likeswaffles/pseuds/Malik_likeswaffles): heheh. Where do you think I even _got_ that joke from? XD  I’ve got some plans. If you’re willing I might put you into the next SFTR for credit. Let me know if that’s okay.**

####  **@[Tangibility](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangibility/pseuds/Tangibility): Yeah. This site really isn’t made for lots of comics. I just wanted to add them up every once in awhile for you all to enjoy.**

#### 

####  **@[sqye](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sqye/pseuds/sqye): haha! Well that’s good to know! ;)**

#### 

####  **@ HannahMaster: yeah. He’s kinda dumb isn’t he? But he still has a long way to go before he’s ready to change. He’ll get there though.**

#### 

####  **@ ThrowawaySpecificallyForThisComment: hehe, I agree. I like stories with frenemies more than just gooey love stories. I don’t know. It just sort of feels like once the tension is completely gone, so is what made it interesting to begin with.**

####  **As for the first story thing; is that really so surprising? I just barely got an account here?**

####  **But as for first time WRITING—this definitely isn’t my first rodeo. This story is kind of like my pallete cleanser. Something not too serious to take a break from more serious work. Truth be told I don’t really write fanfiction aside from this. I mostly do original work. You know, short stories, poetry, articles—things that actually put bread on the table. XD**

#### 

####  **In the ‘real world’ I actually am a published writer with original work. I just enjoy this as a good summer distraction. Hope that makes sense!**

#### 

#### 

####  **@ eJ121: haha. I love sticking characters into situations that make them extremely uncomfortable. Not too kind is it? Sooorry!**

#### 

####  **As for the pretentious bit—ha! Most of what makes these comics fun for me is that I get to poke fun at myself and my own work.**

#### 

####  **I tend to put a ton of easter eggs into whatever I’m writing, even when I know that most people aren’t ever going to notice. And while they aren’t Da Vinci Code esque conspiricies like in the comic, I do tend to pull a lot of crap.**

#### 

####  **Dumb things mostly like Daphne’s last name being Job—as in the biblical figure known for his incredible patience while he loses his children, his health, property and all he holds dear.  You know, pretentious little Shyamalan bits like that. ;)**

#### 

####  **Its kind of refreshing for me to get to laugh at myself with these things. So I’m glad you all appreciate them too. XD**

#### 

#### 

 

 

 

 

 

 ###############################################################################################

 

INTERLUDE 7: Picking up the pieces (part 1)

****

****

****

****

**_What are you going to call them?_ **

_They don’t get names yet._

**_Why not?_ **

****

_The mom was pretty malnourished. And she didn’t make it. And these guys are all so small, they might not either. So it’s better if you don’t name them this young. I’ll be sadder if they die._

**_But they_ need _names!_**

****

_It’s okay. When they get homes, their owners will want to name them._

_Look. This is how I tell them apart. When each of them was born, I tied a piece of  colored yarn around their necks. And they all wear different colors.  That way, even if they don’t have names we can still tell which is which._

**_Oh_** …

**_They’re so little. Their eyes aren’t even open yet._ **

_Mmhm._

 

**_That one has a spot on his chin like a little goatee. Look!_ **

****

_Cute._

**_…which ones will die?_ **

****

_I don’t know._

**_When will you know?_ **

_For some we might see it coming on. Others might just…happen._

**_Hmph._ **

****

_Why are you sad?_

**_‘m not._ **

****

_I’m going to do everything I can to make sure they don’t die. Okay?_

 

**_What if they die anyway?_ **

 

_Then they die. That’s  all there is to it really. Either they die or they don’t._

 

**_I don’t know how you stand it._ **

 

_Stand what?_

 

**_Taking care of something you know is probably already doomed.  Cuz what’s the point? Even if you try and try your hardest they’re  still probably just gonna die._ **

****

_I see._

 

**_They’ll die regardless of whether or not you try and help them. So it doesn’t make a difference what you do._ **

****

_Of course it makes a difference._

_The mom was going to die. We know that. She was barely hanging on when they brought her in. But if she hadn’t been brought in when she did, we couldn’t have helped the puppies. They would have died with her._

**_But… they still might die._ **

_Yeah. But dying in here is_ always _better than dying out there._

 

**_Isn’t that the same thing? They’re dead either way._ **

 

_No. Its not._

 

 

_Because if they die here… at least they weren’t **alone** when they died. At least they were warm and fed. And...At least they died knowing someone actually cared about them. _

_That makes all the difference in the world._

**_But what’s the point in_ loving _something if you_ know _they’re doomed from the start? Even now… some of them… their bodies can’t sustain them. They’ll fall down. And when that happens there’s nothing you can do to stop it._**

**_Isn’t it better to leave them alone? They’ll just make you sad when they’re gone. What’s the point?_ **

_Because. Even if their life is short, it’s the only life they have. Don’t they deserve to feel loved? Even if its just for a little while? Everyone dies._

_All we can do is love them while we have them. And remember them when they go._

_Do you understand?_

 

**_Oh…_ **

****

_Hey._

_It’s okay._

_Don’t cry._

****

**_‘m not!_ **

 

_The puppies will be okay. I’ll keep them safe and warm until—one way or another—they move on to whatever’s next for them._

**_Hmph…_ **

**_What do I_ care _about some dumb dogs?_**

_Ah._

_Would you like to hold one of them?_

**_Oh wha for?_ **

_I think you might like it._

_You can hold…_

_This little guy._

**_…is he soft?_ **

_Mmhm. Warm too._

**_And will I… would it be okay If…_ **

****

**_Can I_ feel _them?_**

****

_I don’t see why not._

**_And… you’ll really let me?_ **

 

You’ll be careful won’t you?

 

**_O-of course! I- I’m always careful with you!_ **

 

_It’s them you need to be careful with. They’re a lot more fragile than me._

**_I promise! I-I won’t let you down!_ **

 

_Good. You’ll want to keep your hands cupped. Hold them close to your chest so they don’t roll off. Okay?_

 

**_Okay…_ **

 

_Are you ready?_

 

**_Um…_ **

****

_Because I’m letting go now._

 

**_W-wait!_ **

**_S-stop!_ **

 

_Yes?_

**_You’ll stay here right? Y-you won’t go away if I’m here… will you?_ **

****

_Why would I leave?_

**_Because you don’t even_ want _to be here…_**

****

_Why do you think that?_

**_I’m not stupid. People don’t… people don’t come to Ebbot for_ nice _reasons._**

****

_No…_

_No. I suppose they don’t._

**_I’m just so scared…_ **

****

_I’m sorry._

**_What if you float away? What if I…_ **

**_What if I  end up throwing you away?_ **

_Why do you think you’d do something like that?_

**_Cause…_ **

**_I’m selfish._ **

**_I really just wanted to_ live _._**

**_I didn’t care what this would do to you._ **

**_I knew it was wrong. But I just…_ **

**_Couldn’t let go._ **

****

****

_I see._

_I don’t think that’s selfish._

_Not really._

_Besides._

_I know something that’s worse._

****

**_What?_ **

**_What could_ possibly _be worse than wanting to live?_**

****

****

_Wanting to die._

_Not caring what that would do to the people closest to you._

_Wishing no one loved you, just so you wouldn’t have to feel guilty_

_About letting them all down._

_Its worse when you have what far more_ deserving _people crave._

_And you just throw it all away._

That’s _selfish._

_You’re not._

**_Y-you…._ **

**_You gotta promise me!_ **

**_You won’t do it again!_ **

**_N-not ever!_ **

**_You promise?_ **

****

_I do._

**_Cross your heart?_ **

****

_Cross_ my _heart._

**_Good! It’s a deal!_ **

**_No backin out! Or else I’ll—_ **

**_Wha—_ **

**HEY!**

_I’m still here. It’s alright._

**_…Whoa…_ **

****

_Easy. Nice and easy with him. Use both hands._

**_He’s so_ warm _…_**

**_Heh…hahaha!_ **

**_I-I can feel his heart beating!_ **

****

_mmm._

_What else can you feel?_

**_He’s…breathing. His nose it cold. He has soft fur…_ **

****

_Go on._

**_His eyes are shut. But… I don’t think he’s asleep anymore..._ **

**_W-wha! What is he doing?_ **

****

_It’s alright. He’s just hungry. He thinks you’re his mama._

**_O-oh…_ **

****

_See that eyedropper? Fill it up with some of the formula in that bowl then put the tip into his mouth._

_Don’t squirt too much. He’ll figure it out._

**_O-okay….okay..._ **

_See?_

_I told you, you’d be good at this._

**_Heheheh…_ **

****

**_Hey… I know you said it was bad but…_ **

**_Is it okay if I-I name this one?_ **

****

_Would that make you happy?_

**_I think so…_ **

****

_Then go ahead._

**_Thank you._ **

****

**_u-um…_ **

****

_Yes?_

**_When I open my eyes tomorrow morning. You…you’ll still be here. Right?_ **

****

_I’ll be here._

**_C-cause you’re not allowed to float away. Okay? I-I’m being serious right now. Don’t! I-I’ll get really mad!_ **

**_S-so…_ don’t _…_**

****

_I promise._

**_Cross your heart?_ **

****

_Cross_ our _heart…_

****

****

 

****

 

 


	41. INTERLUDE 7: Picking up the Pieces (part 2)

**AN: Update time!**

**Got a long one this time around. The last chapter raised a few eyebrows, and I know a lot of you have been debating on who was speaking. And while there are major clues hidden in the dialog, their identities are meant to be a bit questionable. This next chapter should shed a little more light on the matter (I hope) or at least help.**

**Backstory stuff is always a challenge. So are major reveals. I’m always worried that I’m jumping the gun and not letting things build enough. So we’ll see how this goes.**

**Comment time!**

#### @[Menoshe](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Menoshe/pseuds/Menoshe): Same thing happened to me. I updated, and opened another tab to post the chapter on another website. When I returned to the first tab a couple minutes later and refreshed it, your review popped up.

#### That’s funny. XD

#### @ThrowawaySpecificallyForThisComment: Don’t lose too much sleep bud. XD Besides, this next chapter might help you make up your mind. ;)

#### @[Malik_likeswaffles](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Malik_likeswaffles/pseuds/Malik_likeswaffles): I’ll have the SFTR up by the next update.

#### @[Shewhoshines](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Shewhoshines/pseuds/Shewhoshines): Glad you enjoyed it. sorry for the ambiguity. It’ll all make sense soon enough. I’m so excited…

#### @eJ121: haha. Sorry. Not going to be able to update SFTR everytime I post a new chapter. If I did that updates would slow down a ton. Don’t worry about it though. I’m planning on updateing SFTR with the next chapter.

#### And don’t worry about the plot. I know exactly where I’m going. (maybe…) Sorry for the ambiguity in this chapter. But its supposed to be vauge and make you wonder who is actually talking. It’ll make more sense soon (cross your fingers)

#### @Mary: Awe!  Sweetie, <3  Don’t ever feel nervous about approaching me, or sharing your thoughts or ideas.

####  Despite the fact that I torture readers with cliffhangers, and nonsensical comics—I really do love you guys and simply _adore_ hearing your ideas! Its what keeps me excited about writing this. I would love to hear any thoughts or ideas you have.

#### And thank you so much for reading this. I can’t believe you stayed up all night just to finish. What an amazing compliment. I hope I can live up to it with my future updates. It’s a big relief to hear that people actually enjoy the OCs I’ve put into this. In most fanfictions, OCs are little more than reader inserts, or vehicles for the author to vicariously live out their fantasies. So I can see why they’re often met with distain.

#### I put a lot of work into characters and development and try to avoid the traps that most fanfiction writers fall into.   so it makes me really happy to hear that all the effort payed off. J Thank you for being so wonderful and taking the time to leave a comment.

#### You really made my day!

 

###################################################################################

 

 

 

 

 

INTERLUDE 7: Picking up the Pieces (part 2)

 

 

 

 

 

It was the diapers that got him. Marcos was fine with the sonograms and the hospital trips. He kept his cool all through the process of putting the crib together; of watching his wife paint their old guest room blue with white clouds and red balloons. All things considered he'd been rather blase about the whole ordeal.

 

But it was the diapers that got him. That moment eight months into the pregnancy, standing in a Walmart checkout line staring blankly at the bag of _huggies Pull-ups_ that the truth finally came crashing down on his head.

 

"I'm going to be a _father_."

 

Then he _lost it_.

 

 

Marcos Job had never been what you would call _realistic_. He was the sort of man who decided whether or not it was a good idea to do something-- by doing it. When he was eighteen he ran off to become an ice fisherman in Alaska. He left without telling anyone and made it halfway through Denver when his old Beige Sedan gave out a huff of brown smoke and refused to go any further. Marcos’ grandmother drove six hours into the night to drag his sorry backside home again. But that wasn’t anything new.  It had always been his grandmother's obligation to keep Marcos reined back. And when he was married, that mantle fell to his young wife.

 

The courting process was long, and almost completely one-sided.

Marcos first asked her to marry him when he was ten years old. He'd offered her the bigger half of his Popsicle. She'd shoved him down in the sandbox and ran away with her hands clapped tight over her burning red face.

_She told him he was 1loced._

Marcos asked her a second time when he was nineteen. By then he'd realized that he'd have to offer her something a little better than half of a triple berry rocket pop. He blew his first paycheck at the carwash and bought her a fake sapphire ring. She asked him where the money for his first month’s rent went. When he told her she was wearing it, she gave the ring back.

 

_She told him to grow up._

 

The third time he asked her to marry him, Marcos was 22 years old. He'd spent three years in the Air Force on a base in San Antonio and had saved up enough money for a nice car and the down payment on a house. He was being reassigned to a military base fifteen miles west of Ebbot. He'd gone out and bought her a diamond ring. Granted, one would need a microscope to even _see_ the rock. But it was a diamond nonetheless. He got down on his knees and laid it all out.

 

_She told him she’d been waiting eleven years for that moment._

They eloped that same night. The family was scandalized. They’d wanted to see their daughter get married in a church. Though which church they’d meant was anybody’s guess.

As far as the bride knew, her birth parents had been Baptists. Her adoptive family—as well as Marcos’ grandmother, had all been Roman Catholic. Marcos’ mother and father had recently started investigating a local Lutheran congregation which made Sunday dinners with 2Abuelita particularly uncomfortable.

Even so, if you were to ask the newlyweds about religion, they’d tell you they were Cowboys fans .

A quick stop at the courthouse followed by a spontaneous honeymoon to Cancun, suited them just fine. Marcos was still a whirlwind of impractical dreams. But luckily his wife was realistic enough to keep them out of the poor house. She was patient—someone had to be. She kept him steady.

 _She always had_.

 

But even so. The reality of what Marcos and his wife were about to take on _finally_ caught up with him.

 

 _"I'm going to be a_ father _."_

 

He'd repeated that fact again and again. He was still repeating it by the time they'd left Walmart and had gone off to the car. The diapers were still clutched to his chest when they pulled out of the parking lot. He hadn't been in the right mindset that evening. Not in the right mind to do much of anything.

 

The Jobs were both very young. Fights among newlyweds like them weren't uncommon. Especially when the added stress of another family member was piled on top of everything else. Newlyweds bicker. Newlyweds argue and lose their tempers. So what happened next was only natural.

 

When the family learned of the accident they had been devastated. Everyone mourned. Everyone reached out as best they could to the widow bride. It was difficult what with her being so far away from home but they did what they could. Her mother insisted she come home but she declined. She was I debt for her housing and student loans. And medical bills weren't cheap either. She stayed in Ebbot. She sold back the little house. She used the money to pay for her physical therapy. But she didn't return to El Paso. She didn't _want_ to leave.

 

Once the initial shock and mourning passed, the family began to talk. Marcos had always been careless. He should have taken better care of his wife. Of his child. He probably ran a red light. Probably didn't see the semi coming. He should have paid attention.

 

The family never said these things to the widow. How could they? Yet in all honesty, no one was surprised that the accident had happened.

 

But what the family didn't know, was that it had not been careless, scatterbrained _Marcos_ behind the wheel that night. The night his wife was left husbandless, childless and alone.

 

 _No_.

 

It had been _Daphne_.

 

***

 

 

Sans was the first to arrive at the shelter. Even though he’d wasted a lot of time erasing his presence from Daphne’s flat (for the most part) He still managed to beat his brother there. Being able to take ‘shortcuts’ came in handy that way.

 

Though, when he materialized in the shelter’s waiting room, he hadn’t expected it to be so _dark_. The place had been locked up tight for the night. With the exception of the small amount of streetlight that filtered in through the big store windows—the room was dark.

 

The skeleton scooted along the wall, feeling for a light switch. His tibia connected with a paper shredder causing him to curse and send it tumbling to the ground. Sans grumbled, stooping down the right the boxy machine. He flared his magic, letting it pool up in his left eye. Soon the area was bathed in a faint blue glow. Not much. But enough to at least avoid running into anymore obstacles. He was about to resume his search when he caught sight of movement in his peripherals. Movement, and a pair of tiny pink pinpricks of light, trained on the skeleton’s back.

 

The Skeleton spun round, but the pink glow was gone. The overhead lights clicked on. Daphne stood in the doorway to the kennel. Head cocked. A baseball bat in her hands. She squinted at him. Then lowered the bat slowly to her side.

 

“Yo.” she grunted. 

 

The skeleton frowned.

 

“Sup kiddo.” He growled absently, eyes still darting for the source of the pink magic. But there was no one else there. Daphne followed his gaze, nose wrinkling up. She cleared her throat, regaining his attention.  

 

“what’s with the club?” he grunted, nodding to the baseball bat in her hands.  The human seemed to relax, a little more as she set it aside.

 

“Thought you were a **cat** burglar.”

_Ha._

The skeleton turned to regard the human. “You gotta be **kitten** me. You know I’m not that kind of **puuuurson**.” The human blinked slowly.

“It’s not funny. You shouldn’t scare people like that.” Daphne turned back to the hall. “Cat puns freak **meowt**.” Sans’ grin widened and he followed after the human. He was already running through the questions he wanted to ask in his mind. He’d thought up a few sneaky ways to tease the information out of her. At least one of them should do the trick. Shouldn’t it? He was ready for her.

 

The human turned a corner, stepping beneath the overhead lamp. Sans clenched. Stopping in his tracks when he finally caught sight of her in the light.

 

Gone were the oversized coats layered on lumpy shapeless sweaters. Even the top half of her scrub had been taken off, leaving her in nothing but a white camisole and scrub pants.

He’d known she was thin but this...

It was like looking at a _skeleton_. Her tiny body was shrunken in, pale skin stretched tight over her bones. The skeleton felt a tug of nausea looking at her. Humans weren’t supposed to be _that_ thin. Humans were softer, rounder, more _alive_ looking.

_Oh hell…_

This was more than just regular human thinness. This was unnatural. Unhealthy. Like some kind of cancer had been eating away at her.

 

And it wasn’t _just_ the thinness.

_Scars._

Her skin was covered in thick pink scar tissue. The remnants of ugly gashes littered her body as if she’d been dropped into a giant blender and diced within an inch of her life. The worst of the scars culminating at her forearms and wrists. He shook slightly. Eyes falling on her shredded arm. The lights left his eyes.

 

**< A turn of his wrist. A roar of power. A _scream_.**

**The smell of burning hair.**

**The human flopped like a ragdoll—helpless body striking hard into the wall. The floor. Wall. Wall. Ceiling. Drop. She was weeping, crumpled on the ground, lip split. Eyes bloodshot.**

**“W-why are you doing this…?” >**

 

 Sans felt like he was going to be _sick_.

_Oh hell. She looks like she’s about to die._

**< ”Please s-stop!” **

**“Why are you doing this?**

**“Sans—PLEASE!” >**

“Big Guy…?”

The human paused, seeming to realize he was no longer following her. When she turned around he was close, almost close enough for her nose to brush up against his shirt. She actually winced, taking half a step backwards. The skeleton was shaking all over.

 

**< ”Please! I don’t want to hurt him.” **

**“S-stop!”**

**“It hurts!”**

**“Help me!”**

**“DO YOU WANNA HAVE A BAD TIME?” >**

“SANS.” The skeleton felt a small hand grasp onto his, filling the spaces between his fingers with their own. And just like that it was over. The room came back into focus. Slowly. The hand squeezed his. “Nice and easy. You’re doing great.” That was Daphne’s voice.  Calm. Steady. He lowered his gaze and found her standing next to him. She was looking forwards, breathing slow exaggerated breaths. He found himself doing the same unconsciously. She’s slipped her oversized coat back on.

How had she known what had set him off?

 

 After a moment, The buzzing left his ears and his breathing returned to normal.

 

“Sorry.” Daphne grunted. “Didn’t know you were coming. Should have covered up.” Sans released her hand with a grunt, taking a step back. Still too numb to feel embarrassed. It’d been awhile since he’d had a panic attack. Months in fact. He’d thought he’d left the worst of them behind him. The monster’s soul sagged in guilt.

His little incident with Charlotte must have opened up a few old wounds.

 

“Naw… its…” He took a deep breath. “Sorry.” The human shrugged as if this was all perfectly normal. She paused making sure he was ready to follow before starting back down the hall. He did so, running a shaky hand over his sweat drenched face.

 

“Hey. Pipsqueak.” Sans grunted after a moment. The human paused. Head inclined to show she was listening. “How’d you know how to calm me down?” She glanced over her shoulder at him.

 

“It works on _me_.”

 

 

 

And that was it. No awkward questions. No sympathetic glances. Daphne slipped through the door of the kennel and out of Sans’ view. The skeleton stared after her contemplatively, before following.Sans could hear the whining and yips of animals through the walls all the way down the hallway. Before they reached the opening to the room, Sans touched the human’s arm.

“Hey.” He rumbled, gaining her attention. “I don’t…I don’t really know much about human injuries. But that looks kinda bad so….did you need anything or…?”

The human’s hand went to her wrist.

“Naw. Don’t worry about it. These are _old_.  Got em in car crash about a year ago.” She rolled back one of her sleeves somewhat so he could see part of the scar tissue. “Looks worse than it is. Trust me. I tried to brace up against the steering wheel before we hit. Bad idea. Broke a lot of bones doing it.”

 

The skeleton squinted. He reached out and ran a finger over the webbing of scars. The marks looked pretty gruesome. From the shape and size of the scars it looked as though she’d torn through all the nerves and smashed all the bones in her fingers and wrists.  But that couldn’t be right. Sans knew bones. And even with his limited knowledge of human anatomy he knew that if she really had been _that_ injured, it would have crippled her for life, making whatever remained of her hands and arms a broken useless mess.

That was _impossible._

He turned her wrist, carefully extending it through its full range of motion. It was _perfect_. It didn’t appear to have sustained any lasting damage. She’d retained full functionality, down to the last finger joint. He shook his head with a grunt and released her.

It couldn’t have been _that_ bad.

“Bad idea is right. You’re lucky it didn’t cripple you from the impact.” Sans grumbled. “Why’d ya brace yourself up like that?”

The human studied her hand, blankly, then rolled her sleeve back down.

“I was protecting my stomach.” She stated. Then slipped off into the room without another word. 

 

***

Three of the puppies were fast asleep, piled on top of each other on a pile of ragged blankets. Daphne knelt down by the lucid puppies, lifting one into her lap to feed it. Sans came to sit nearby watching her work. The Skeleton wasn't a fan of surface dogs. They were so different from the monster dogs back home. These things were stupid, messy and violent. They went to the bathroom anywhere they wanted, made a racket, and were always yipping about something. At least, that's how Doggie was. She tried to maul Sans every time he entered the room. And despite Papyrus’ intense devotion, Sans was less than impressed with her. He leaned over, examining the furballs. These mutts were a fraction of Doggie's size and just fragile enough to make him extremely nervous. He gave the dogs a wide berth.

 

 “Hows my flower?” Daphne asked after the puppy in her arms had gotten the hang of sucking. Sans shrugged.

 

“Eh. Paps fed him. For some reason He actually _likes_ the little creep.”

The human hummed.

 

“So. You’re here to **hound** me for secrets then?”

 

“And to be a _gentleman_ of course.” The skeleton nodded. The human snorted.

 

“Of course.” She turned back to the dog, seeming content to let the subject die. Sans however, was not.

 

“Didja really think you could just drop a bomb like that and expect me not to call you on it?” He mused.

 

“I guess not. Just surprised you’re here.” Daphne said. “ I thought you avoided this side of town like the plague. Especially after the fit you threw last time.” The skeleton waved this off.

 

 “s’ fine right now. Its late. None of the humans are around.”

 

 “I’m around.” Daphne waved a hand. Sans paused, glancing down at her.

 

“That’s _different_.”

 

The human grunted. A pair of dull blue eyes searched him, looking for something.

 

“When it’s _your_ turn to grill _me_ for info, I’ll take you to a bar on my side of town.” Daphne decided. The skeleton grimaced.

 

 “Why the hell would you do that?”

 

“To help you get over your anthrophobia.”

 

Sans squinted.

_Anthro…?_

_Oh._

He cracked his knuckles casually. A wall was coming up behind his eyes.

 

“Heh. Are you implying that I’m _scared_ of humans?”

 

“Yes.” The human replied.

 

“And why do you think this? Hm?” He was ready to refute or explain away any accusation she could throw at him. The human made a thoughtful noise, seeming to consider this carefully.

_He was prepared for anything she could throw at him._

 

“Because you’re a _dick_.”

 

The skeleton blinked.

  _Except for that._ Sans defenses wavered, and he let out an incredulous snort.

“Excuse me?”

 

“You have the potential to be a nice guy. I guess. But you never show it around humans. You…” she gestured vaguely. “You go into this shell. Or something.”

 

The skeleton regarded her blandly.

 

“Heh. I think you’re confused pipsqueak. You’ve got that backwards. Humans are afraid of _me_. Not the other way around.”

 

“Kay.” Daphne grunted. He folded his arms.

 

 “It’s true I don’t particularly _like_ humans. But I’m not scared of them.”

 

“Kay.”

 

The skeleton grit his teeth.

 

“And I’m fine going anyplace you want for our little meeting. Anywhere in town. You pick it.” He added, driving in his point. Sans wasn’t sure how this had happened. But he regretted his words the moment they left his mouth. The human’s thin mouth lengthened into a tight smirk. Nose wrinkling with mischief.

 

“Kay…”

_That sneaky little…_

"Whoa. What's that?" Daphne grunted out of the blue pointing to the skeleton’s hands.  Sans blinked.

 

"What's what?"

 

The human took both of his hands into her own, bringing them together in a cupping position. She squinted hard at his palms scratching her chin.

 

"No… that’s not right…"She mumbled. The skeleton stared at his palms, trying to figure out what the hell she was doing. He didn’t see anything. "Let me see..." The human turned round and placed a pudgy ball of white fur into the skeleton's palms. Sans jolted in surprise, when the tiny dog let out a yawn and curled up in his hands.

 

"There we go. That's better." Daphne mused.  He tried to hand the dog back but the human was too quick for him, scooting away and occupying her hands with another puppy. The skeleton huffed, paying the animal a brief glance.

 

"Oh. a **hotdog**. Yum. How did you know I was _hungry_?" He rumbled darkly. The human paid him a brief glance before turning back to her own puppy.

The skeleton wrapped his fist carefully around the puppy till only its front paws and the end of its squat little nose poked out. Then he lifted the dog up towards his mouth, keeping his eyes locked onto the human. But she didn't look up.

 

He made a guttural rumble, opening his jaws wide as if to shove the animal inside. _Nothing_. The human didn't so much as bat an eyelash. When even sticking the top half of the dog’s head into his mouth didn’t draw her attention the skeleton scowled. He lowered the dog again, so it was cupped close to his chest.

 

"Y'know, you could be a _little_ more concerned for this **pupperoni's** well being."

 

"Mm?" Daphne grunted.

 

"I'm a monster."

 

"Really? I didn't know that." Her voice was so flat that the skeleton felt his cheekbones grow a little warm. He cleared his throat.

 

"What if I'd actually eaten the little mutt?" He challenged. Another disinterested grunt. He tried again. "What if skeletons really _do_ eat dogs? Hmm?"

The corners of the human's lips twitched upwards.

 

"Hmm." She echoed.

 

"You wouldn't know. Would you? Not until it was too late."

 

"Two hands please." Daphne grunted. Sans still had the puppy wrapped round with a fist. The dog in question didn't seem too bothered by this. In fact it appeared to have fallen asleep. It's pink nose twitching with teeny snores. The skeleton grimaced but carefully rolled the animal back into his cupped hands. It wiggled slightly, trying to find the source of warmth it had lost.

 

"Y'know, dog salad is considered a rare delicacy where I come from." He grumbled. The human finally raised her eyes to him. She blinked slowly.

 

"Do you pull this kind of thing with _monster_ women too? "  She wondered flatly. The skeleton faltered.

 

"I— _What_?"

 

"Naw. Probably not." Daphne decided, turning her chin away from him. "They'd think you were _socially retarded_ or something…"

 

All the magic in sans' body pooled into his face. His mouth came open, but the retort got lost in his mouth.

_She—How? What?!_

The human smirked, lowering the eyedropper.

 

"Sans. Has trying to scare me _ever_ gotten you what you wanted?”

 

The skeleton clenched his teeth. He held the dog out to her.  

"Just _take_ him..." He hissed. The human let out a deep breath.

 

“Look. I get it. You’re not here to be a nice guy. You didn’t actually come to help me out. You want shit. That’s fair.” She slipped her now sleeping puppy back into the dogpile and rose slowly to her feet.

 “But I’m _tired_. And I really _do_ have a lot to get done. If you don’t want to help then you should leave. Today isn’t a good night for this.” She patted the skeleton’s shoulder. “I gotta mix up some more grub for these guys. If you want to stick around, you’re gonna have to work.”

 

With that she stepped into the other room. Leaving sans alone with the dog. He started after her, his eyes singing holes into the back of her stupid green head.

 

 _That should have worked._ It _would_ have worked on any other human.

Sans knew what humans thought of his kind. He’d heard sorts of things they said. If he’d pretended he was going to eat the puppy around anyone else, they would have believed him. Probably panicked. And at least taken the dog away from him, stripping him of any future obligation to interact with the dirty little mongrels.

_It should have worked._

He shouldn’t be sitting there feeling like an idiot with an ugly baby animal pressing its nose into his boney fingers. He shouldn’t be embarrassed.

 _She_ _shouldn’t_ have been able to make him feel embarrassed about _anything_.

And yet she could.

It was _ridiculous_. He was just acting the way they all expected him to. Humans had already cast his kind in this role. All he was doing was playing the part.

So why did she insist on making him feel _stupid_ every time he pretended to be _monstrous_? Why couldn’t she just stick to the routine? What was her problem? Why did she insist on treating him like he was some kind of…of…

_..person?_

Sans froze. Then his head slowly came up. 

 

_Oh._

_That was it._ From the very beginning the human had been treating him the way she would have treated another human. She didn’t seem to believe in any of the stereotypes that most humans ascribed to monster kind. And whenever he behaved threateningly, she called him on it.

If Sans had pretended he was going to eat a dog alive, or any of the things he normally did to humans— in front of another _monster_ –they would either think he was crazy. Because, his kind didn’t actually _do_ half of the things humans _thought_ they did. They were less violent, more civilized than people gave them credit for.

 _That was it._ The reason the human seemed so bizarre. She’d been treating him like a person from the beginning. Like how another monster would have regarded him. Somehow, she seemed to know _exactly_ how monsters actually behaved. And when he did something scary to intimidate the humans around him, she reacted the way any normal monster would have.

She called him on it. Teased him for it. She treated him like another person. And like it or not, she seemed to expect him to _act_ like one.

True, there were things about him that legitimately frightened her. Things she found monstrous and disdainful. But then, considering what she knew about him.

 _She had every right to be_ afraid.

And for whatever reason—that _hurt_. He was used to every human he met being afraid of him for something he didn’t do. The sting of it had worn away from too many disappointments. He could care less if humans found him to be dangerous and menacing. In fact he encouraged that belief most of the time.

But this was different. More real. More… _personal_.

Because with this human any fears she had of him were _valid_.

Because she _should_ be afraid of him.

The more the skeleton turned this idea around in his head, the guiltier he grew. Despite all the _monstrous_ things she knew about him, Daphne still treated Sans like another human. Did this mean…

 He should have been treating her like another _monster_?

 

 

A squeaky mewling rose up from the Skeleton’s hands. He pulled a face.

_Oh right._

_The hairball._

The puppy was awake and wiggling.

 

“Can I help you with somethin hairy?" Sans rumbled flatly. The dog's ears cocked. It the appeared to be trying to sit up. It's oversized head kept plopping back down against his curled fingers. The skeleton cringed, wishing he could put it down. It was too helpless. Why did _he_ have to be the one holding it? Give it a month or two and he wouldn't  have cared. But _now_? This thing was way too _fragile_. Too small, and innocent to be trusted in hands like _his_.

Sans may have been a lot of things. But gentle was never one of them.

 

The puppy started licking at his fingers. After a moment it tried fitting its tiny jaws around the giant digit. A set of small, needle-like teeth clacked harmlessly against the bone. The skeleton scowled lifting his cupped hands closer to his face.

 

"You're **barkin** up th' wrong tree there bub." He growled. At the sound of his voice the puppy abandoned its attempts to nurse. It paused sniffing curiously. Then it started up that annoying squeaky crying again. The skeleton groaned.

 

 " _What_? What do you want?"

The puppy’s head lifted with great difficulty. It began trying to scoot towards the source of his voice. When it couldn't find it, the animal began a high pitched sort of squeak howl bobbing its wobbly head as best it could. It's flat little muzzle forming an o shape as it held out the end of each howl.

_So annoying._

The skeleton grumbled.  but raised his cupped hands till the tips of his fingers met his jawbone. The dog went silent again—sniffing. Then It began its ridiculous belly crawl. It scooted and crawled until it was able to press the end of its snout to the skeleton's teeth. Sans froze going a bit cross eyed to peer down at the animal. It was putting so much of its head’s weight on the skeleton’s jawbone that he was worried it would overbalance and topple over if he moved. It sniffled his teeth intently and soon sans could feel it's own tiny teeth clacking and scraping against his incisors. Carefully he drew the animal back a little.

"The hell are you doing pooch?" He growled.

The dog started to whine again. Sans glanced around awkwardly before drawing it in close again. The nibbling and snuffing commenced. The dog's sharp whiskers were beginning to tickle against his chin and the skeleton fought down the urge to scratch his nasal bone.

A grin slowly found its way onto his face.

 

 "Oh. I get it. Payback huh **puptart**? You gonna eat _me_ now?"

_Clack. Clack. Clack._

The dog bit down experimentally. Sans' grin widened a fraction.

"Quit **dogging** me ya little Cannibal. Canines shouldn't be eating **canines**..."

The timing was perfect. As if in response, the dog gave up its attempts to chew on the skeleton's teeth. It flopped down and let out a whine. Sans couldn’t help it.

He _laughed._

The dog’s head twitched, and it opened its mouth, trying it seemed to chomp down on the warm air as it puffed from the skeleton’s jaws. It seemed determined, as If it thought it really _could_ catch air.  No dice. The dog let out a particularly violent little sneeze, the force of which caused it to roll onto its side. It instantly began to wiggle its fat little legs, attempting clumsily to right itself again. When the dog couldn’t get its fat little body upright again, It began its squeaky howls again. Sans began to recognize that particular sound as a cry for help.

 

The skeleton blinked, watching the puppy wriggle. Then used one of his curled fingers to carefully push the pudgy body upright again. The dog sneezed twice before lowering its head to its paws and exhaling deeply. Exhausted from the effort.

 

"You look **dog** tired mutt." The monster rumbled. His digit lingered on the dog's side. He hesitated, then started running his fingers gingerly over the dog's fur. It was soft. Softer than anything he'd felt before. Was it because it was still _new_? He brought his hands experimentally up towards his face and carefully rubbed the tiny body against his cheekbone.

 

There was a flash of white light. The skeleton jumped.

"Well. Look who has a _soul_." Daphne stood in the doorway with a bottle of baby formula under one arm, and her phone poised in the other. Sans blinked. He'd instinctively cupped the dog up against his chest, hands all but hiding the animal from view. He stiffened, awkwardly lowering his hands to his lap.

"Was the picture really necessary pipsqueak?" He grumbled.

 

"It was cute." She intoned, striding towards the monster. "Wanna improve monster- human relations? Just stick this up on YouTube. Too. Friggin. Adorable."

 

"Delete that."  Sans growled. The human made a few taps on her phone then pocketed it.

 

"There. All gone. And not a shred of dignity lost big guy." She sat down next to him on the floor. "Looks like Goatee likes you."

 

"Goatee?” Sans squinted, looking the puppy over. He caught sight of the tiny black spot on its chin. “These things already have name?”

 

 “No. Just this one."

 

"Hmm" Sans nodded. Other than the spot and its light blue collar of yarn, the puppy was identical to all the others. “What makes this one so special?”

 

“I might be taking him home. Eventually.” Daphne mused. “At least, I will if Asriel _behaves_ himself.”

Sans glanced up at this, a strange twisting feeling forming in the pit of his stomach.

 _Flowey. She means Flowey. Not_ that _Asriel. The real Asriel is dead._  He reminded himself. But the uneasy feeling didn’t go away.

 

“Uh. You might wanna put him down. Like—now.” Daphne stated. Sans’ head came up.

 

“Why?”

 

The answer came to him not half a second later carrying the faint musk of ammonia. The skeleton grimaced letting the air hiss out from between his clenched teeth.

_And just when I was starting to warm up to the nasty little beast…_

Goatee had just _urinated_ on him.

 

############################################################################

Footnotes:

  1. To be crazy, or acting in a wild or irrational manner. (Spanglish. Derived from the word ‘loco’)
  2. _Abuelita_ _._ _Literally means ‘little grandmother’_ _._ _A nickname or cutesy way to refer to a grandmother. Used ironically here. Similar to ‘granny’ or ‘Nana’._




	42. INTERLUDE 7: Picking up the Pieces (part 3)

**AN: This one was ridiculously difficult to get out. Seriously. We cover some heavy topics in this chapter and I wanted to make this as honest an authentic a portrayal as I could.**

**Also, no SFTR this time around. It took too long to finish this time around. Hopefully next update.**

**Comments:**

#### @ [Malik_likeswaffles](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Malik_likeswaffles/pseuds/Malik_likeswaffles): There is no such thing as too much illuminati.

#### @ ThrowawaySpecificallyForThisComment: Thanks for the heads up. I fixed the formatting errors. I think your questions about the voices from that chapter will be answered in this chapter.

#### Also, I’m not sure what you mean about it being one sided.

#### @ eJ121: That is a very good theory. I think you’ll learn the truth in this chapter.

#### @ Random: Wow what a compliment! Thank you so much! I am so glad you’re enjoying this.

#### @ Mary: Haha. That is good to know. Your assessment of Daphne is pretty spot on. Yes, the argument was in fact the cause of the crash. And the fact that Daphne had been the one driving and that her losing her temper was what distracted her from the road—yeaaaah… You can guess why she shows so little emotion.

#### As for why Daphne cares about Charlotte, there are a lot of reasons. One of which you will learn about in this chapter. ;) What you need to understand about Daphne is that despite her emotionless demeanor, she is extremely maternal. And losing her family has only intensified that instinct to nurture and protect. She has strong allusions to both Chara and Toriel in her experiences, mentality, and attitudes.

#### Thanks again for the review! I really enjoyed hearing your ideas!

**####################################################################################**

**WARNING: This chapter contains extreme depression, graphic descriptions of violence, character death, attempted suicide and body horror that some readers may find disturbing. If you are sensitive to any of these subjects, then you may skip this and read the summary instead.**

**I have provided a summary of this chapter at the bottom of the post.**

**Reader digression is advised**

**Interlude 7: Picking up the pieces (part 3)**

****

****

**_‘It’s not…it’s not good keeping things bottled up inside. At some point you have to let it all out. If know there are things you cannot talk about. But it is alright to draw them instead. Trust me. It doesn’t have to be pretty or make sense. You don’t even have to think about what you’re drawing. Just keep your pencil moving until you feel better. I promise it _will_  help._ **

****

**_Just promise me you will never stop drawing. Can you do that for me Daphne?’_ **

 

 

The woman sat atop the cold sterile examination table, shivering in her thin paper gown. Her hair had grown out during her stay at the clinic. A candy-striper came in three times a week to wash, comb, and braid  the woman’s hair. Three months in, Daphne had them chop it all off. The candy-striper was far too perky.  She had worn a perpetual grin, and Daphne was tired of smiling back. The roundness was gone. The healthy fat Daphne had been working earnestly to accumulate for nine months had wasted away. And now, with her bony physique and short crop of strawberry blonde curls, she looked less like a grown woman and more like a scrawny twelve year old boy than ever before.

 

 It had been four months now, and the bandages on her hands and arms had finally come off. They’d managed to reconstruct the shape. Five fingers on each hand. Each digit roughly the size and shape it had been before.  If she squinted, unfocusing her eyes, they almost looked normal.

 

“Alright Mrs. Job, tell me if you can feel this.” the physical therapist sent another jolt of electrical current through her palm. Daphne watched the muscles contract, fingers curling in slightly and locking.

 “No…” She admitted.  The probe was moved to another part of her hand. She saw the twitch of muscle, responding to the electronic impulses. But could feel nothing.

Another jolt and her fingers twitched.

 “Did you feel it that time Ma’am?”

Daphne felt bile burning in the back of her throat.

“No.”

The wrinkles in the doctor’s face deepened.

“I see.”

The doctor ran tests. More than was considered practical. But the woman demanded them. Pleaded for him to keep trying.

Daphne was an artist.

She needed her hands.

_They were all she had left._

But the verdict was returned long before he’d even removed the bandages. Her days of painting were over. The woman didn’t speak. She looked away from her broken hands.

 _Dead_ hands.

Little more than latex gloves filled with ground beef.

She waited for the doctors to bring her back to her room.

Then she wept.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Daphne was a fighter.

At least that’s what the doctors had said about her. When the police and the EMTs finally dug her body out of the cab—found it curled tight and broken amidst rubble and shattered glass, they thought she was already dead. The semi had smashed right into the passenger side door, driving the smaller car right on with it as the driver tried in desperation to bring the rig to a stop. The semi _flipped_. The driver had been thrown from the windshield and smashed under the trailer as it pounded and rolled to a stop. The smaller vehicle didn’t fair much better. It had been crushed down so tightly that  it barely resembled a car anymore. It was hours before they were able to get through all of the twisted metal, and into the cab. The process had been slow going, lacking the usual urgency an extraction would entail.

The cab had been crushed. The weight of time and thirty tons of metal was against the occupants.

This was little more than a cleanup. And when they finally gained access to the remains of the cab, they never expected to find anything living beneath all that rubble. No one thought it possible.  It had been too long. No one expected Daphne Juarez Job to live.

 

And yet she did.

 

The unconscious woman was pinned somewhere between the engine, the broken seat, and the dash. Her arms had been completely crushed. Her ribs splintered, But her lungs still took air, still carried oxygen to her brain as they filled and contracted with life giving. And her heart kept beating. Stubborn. Fighting.

An extractor put two fingers to her neck. The woman took a ragged gasping breath, throwing everything else into motion. 

She was rushed to the emergency room, and after twelve hours of intensive care, the doctors managed to stabilize her condition. One week and two hours and eleven minutes later Daphne was lucid enough to speak.

Doctors. Nurses. Physical therapists. Surgeons. Not one of them  could explain how she’d managed to survive the crash. How she found the strength to hold on as long as she did until help arrived. Newspapers considered it a miracle. Channel 4 considered it a tragedy.

_Daphne considered it the end of the world._

 

The moment she asked about her baby.

The moment when the doctors refused to meet her eye.

The moment reality set in.

 

They told her she was strong. But that strength died away. Rotting like a vegetable in the sun while despair— black, crawling thing it is, ate away at what was left.

 

Was she still strong when she first stood before the mirror, held upright by two nurses in sterile white garb? When she saw the freshly stitched flesh along her belly, and felt the emptiness that the emergency cesarean left behind?

Was she still a survivor when weeks rotted away into months in a physical therapy clinic and she still couldn’t stand without the use of a cane? When she couldn’t even go to the bathroom without someone there to clean out her bed pan?

When survival came in exchange for her _independence_? Her pride?

 

What good was it to be called a fighter when you wake up and find yourself broken with nothing in the world...

_left to fight for?_

 

After six months, they let her check out of the clinic, making her promise to hire a live-in nurse to help her with her everyday living. Daphne made the promise.

But she never called for any nurse.

 

Daphne had sold the house. She moved into a one bedroom condominium in the heart of the city. The flat was crampt, little more than four walls and a bed. But it suited her just fine. There were no hallways to wander. No empty spaces to lose herself in. Friends from her old neighborhood, friends sent flowers. Well-wishers told her she was incredible for keeping it all together after everything that had happened.  

They didn’t understand.

 

Mourning hadn’t been easy. Sorrow, despair, self-pity had all been difficult. But there was something worse than the pain.  Daphne could tolerate pain. But what she couldn’t tolerate was what came after pain had run its course.

 

The emptiness.

What did she have left?

What is left when a wife loses her husband?  When a mother loses her child? When an artist loses her hands?

 

When life as you know it loses meaning? It was emptiness that undid Daphne’s mind. It was the emptiness that killed her in the end.

 

Her life was over. And busy folks carried on with their lives, leaving her behind.

Nothing mattered.

So why was the radio still telling her to wear a raincoat? What did it _matter_ where she went or what she did? Why did she have to eat? Drink? Do anything at all?

Why did she have to _exist_?

The answer came to her one quiet autumn night.

 

She _didn’t_.

 

They say that those who come to Mount Ebbot never return. That there are monsters under the mountains. Demons lying in wait just beneath the surface. Like the mountain itself was a gateway to hell. It was morning by the time Daphne reached the foothills of the mountains. She wore no shoes. They were too difficult to put on. She wore the same dark blue dress they’d given her when she’d left the clinic. Three weeks. She hadn’t removed it. Hadn’t bathed. Barely slept. That was fine.

She didn’t need shoes where she was going. After all. She didn’t expect to come back down.

 

Daphne didn't feel sad, staring down into the chasm. Sadness would have been something. Perhaps if she could still feel sadness things would have been different. But she was past sadness now. Past regret.

And now as she stared down into the chasm she felt…

 

_Nothing._

_How anticlimactic._

 

It was a disappointing how little she cared. The decision to end it all wasn’t a hard one to make. Not really. But at this point she couldn't even feel bad for herself. Couldn't even ruminate over the events that had led her to this dismal conclusion. She was tired.

It was time to go.

 

They say that history has a way of repeating itself. And that when we forget the past, it comes back to bite us. Some say it is a product of our own ignorance. Our stubborn inability to learn from our mistakes that causes us to backslide. To make the same mistakes again and again.

But others think it’s more than that. Deeper. As though a problem, if left unsolved creates a wound in time. Indeed we may forget. But something out there _remembers_. Something cares.

To repeat the same events again and again, but to solve nothing. To never be able to change anything. To be trapped in an endless loop, forever ruminating over what has been, and what we can never ever change. That is true damnation.

_That is hell._

 

They say that history repeats itself. But it doesn’t. Time is not a skipping record.

It is a _symphony_.

Melodies, repeat. Events _rhyme_. We work and fight until we finally correct the errors of the past and the universe finally grants us peace.  But the _music_ never dies. And despite how much we wish it.

We can never go back to the beginning.

 

Daphne let herself fall. The earth moved. Like some cosmic entity had just grabbed the world and shook it up like a snow globe. Color. Like shooting stars. Like fireworks. Like a geyser. They shot up from the chasm. Greens blues reds yellows- everything In-between. It came before she even hit the ground. Then came the pulse. A ripple of power emanating from the very peak of the mountain. Like a ripple of water. a sonic boom.

She hit the ground.

Then came a sound like breaking glass. So loud so all-encompassing that she thought it was her bones shattering. And perhaps they were.  The geyser of color and light splintered off in all directions. There was something else among them. A tiny shaft of white light.

Daphne lay there, staring blankly up at the cacophony of light and sound. She was still. It was too early to feel the pain.

Was this _death?_

The colors shot up through the opening of the chasm, searing the sky with light. Soon she couldn’t see them anymore. All that remained was the shaft of _white_. Its flight was doomed from the start. Little blobs of light oozed and rolled off of it like tear drops. It made a wide arch, falling just short of the opening of the chasm.

Then it fell.

Fizzling—beginning to smoke and die out like a firecracker. It rolled over itself getting smaller and smaller with every pass. Its fall was erratic, as if it was in the throes of death.

The light was falling closer. So close that it hurt to look at anymore. So Daphne closed her eyes. They say people know when they’re about to die. Like they can feel it beckoning them into its arms. Daphne could feel death coming on. Taste it.

 

Then she heard a _scream_.

Not the screech of a falling firework. Not the unhuman sound of dying flames.

It was a human-like scream laced with anguish.

The scream of a _child._

 

  
Something _changed._

Adrenaline suddenly flooded the human’s broken body. And with it came emotion. The first in a long stint of stagnation.  It fell over her as the dying bulb of light descended.

 _Fear_.

 

It was happening again. The universe was winding up, for one more inning of pitch and toss.  The endless symphony of time tuned up for another verse.

 

Daphne wrenched herself upright, eyes frantically searching up through the blinding glare for the source of the cry. The light fell, burning, writing, almost gone. Like a flame one breath from being snuffed.

Logic was gone. Delirium had set in. Death turned backwards for an instant. All thoughts melted away to a single earthshattering word.

 _Baby_.

Daphne started crawling, arm over arm, forcing weight onto legs that no longer bent in the direction they should.

_Baby. Baby. Baby. Babybabybaby…_

The falling light struck hard against the wall as it fell. Tumbling, sending rocks flying in its wake.

_No. Please not again._

The human forced her twisted legs to take her weight. Pain shrieked out of her lungs, shaking her to the core. She stumbled against the wall, trying to catch herself with useless hands. Her pale bleeding face aglow with sweat and tears.

_Please…_

 

She took two ungraceful steps, and raised her broken hands. Desperate. She could hear her own bones creaking, as her legs gave out from beneath her. The dying bulb of light, fell into her arms as she went down.

It didn’t burn. Not like real fire. Of course, if it had burnt, Daphne wouldn’t have felt it.  The light flickered, quivering like a bird beating its wings. At first she couldn’t bare to look at it. It shone too brightly. But as her eyes grew accustomed to the glare, and the creature’s glowing began to die down—Daphne could make out a shape at the center of the light.

_A heart?_

A small inverted white heart floated amidst white flames. But there were pieces missing. Chinks of the heart were missing, like a piece of cheese full of holes. Crying. She could hear a child’s voice weeping softly. Whether it was aloud or in her mind she didn’t know. Nor did she care.

The heart shuddered,  and she could see bits of it beginning to fleck away. No more solid than a sandcastle against the wind. Daphne curled in on herself, pressing the light to her chest as softly as she could. No one had to tell her it was dying.

There are some things you just know.

The human cradled It to her, letting out a comforting hum. Some song she didn’t remember the words to. Some melody that never came out the way it sounded in her head.  Just as well. She hummed as darkness set in around them. It was dying— _he_ was dying. They both were.  And there was nothing she could do to stop it. No way to shield him from the darkness surrounding them. From the Abyss.

The woman shook.

 

_This must be hell._

She'd been here before. Trapped in a cage of rubble beneath several tons of twisted metal. Every breath was pain. Suffocating. All she wanted to do was sleep.

But she couldn't. What would happen to her baby if she closed her eyes?

That was hell. No fire. No devils there to prod and sneer.

Only helplessness. Lying there in agony, knowing that the moment she gave up, everything would fall apart. No comfort. No escape. Alone with the horrifying knowledge.

_That she got what she deserved._

 

And then they were gone. A trip to the emergency room. An emergency cesarean section. The baby was gone before she even opened her eyes.

_This is my reward._

The bulb of light jerked, heatless flames rolling over itself again and again like the tide. Daphne took in a breath, tears running down her dirty cheeks, turning it all to mud. How long had it been? Daphne was surprised she even knew how to cry anymore.

_It wasn't fair._

 He was clinging to life. Fighting. Desperate to hold himself together for just a second longer. Even though it was pointless. Even if that stolen moment was nothing but pain.  

He _fought._

And Daphne? She had done this to _herself_.  Thrown her life away like it was garbage. It must have been horrible. Dying with someone like her.

 _Wasteful_.

_Failure._

_Shameful._

 

He wanted to _live_.

She wanted to _die_.

 

_Selfish._

“I-I’m sorry…” Her voice cracked, dry from disuse. Daphne could feel him crumbling against her breast. But there was nothing she could do to stop it. She couldn’t protect him. Couldn’t save him. How could she? She couldn’t even save her own worthless life. “I’m so sorry…”

The heart gave off one last pulse. Death laid a hand on her shoulder.

“I-I wish…”

 

***

 

Daphne awoke to the sound of morning birds. That was a surprise. Dawn had come, but the light had yet to reach the point of the mountain. There was gold, beneath her cheek. _Flowers_? She didn’t remember there being so _many_. Daphne drew in a coughing breath slowly sitting up. Her tongue was dry, her throat felt like sandpaper. There was something on the front of her dress. White powder, the hue and consistency of flour. She squinted her tired eyes. What is that…? Then she remember.

The _baby_.

He wasn’t in her arms anymore. Daphne scrambled to her knees, feeling around in the dark for him. A bubble of dread rising in her chest.

_Where is he?_

The powder was all over. On the flowers, her dress. Her _hands_. Daphne began hyperventilating.

_No…no please…_

Panic set in. She was crawling now, tiny rocks digging into her knees. She couldn’t feel him beside her. Couldn’t find him anywhere. Her search grew more desperate.

_Please—PLEASE_

Nothing. She couldn’t find him. Couldn’t feel him. Couldn’t see his glow anymore.

He was gone.

Daphne let out a broken sob, letting herself crumble. She wasn’t sure why she where the tears came from. It was amazing she still had any liquids left in her body to lose. But once the tears came she couldn’t stop them.

_He was gone. He was gone. She’d lost him. Where did he go?_

Her howls echoed in the chasm, bouncing off the high stone walls of her personal hell.

_Its my fault. Its all my fault.  Where is he?_

Her fingers clawed up into her hair as if to rip it from her scalp.  

_Please God…._

_…_ Where _is my baby?_

 

 Dawn found the point of the mountain. Daphne could feel it coming on, spilling down into the chasm. If she looked up, would see the first colors of dawn painting the sky. Something fluttered in her chest. Something moved. A pulse. A buzz. A noise in her mind like a tiny yawn.

Then _warmth_.

Daphne opened her eyes.

That feeling. Familiar. Alien to her body. But still, somehow—she _knew_ it. It was the feeling of company. The beautiful curse of responsibility. _Stewardship_. Deep inside of her, something was alive. Something was growing, thriving. Sharing her breaths, and every beat of her heart. A _child_.

Her fingers unclenched from her hair. Then slowly. _Very slowly_. She lowered them till they hung before her face. Her mouth hung open as she breathed. Deep. Almost painful breaths. Her fingers had straightened out. Delicate bones and joints interlocking, lining perfectly into place.

 

She wiggled her fingers.

 _Wiggled_ them.

_How?_

Her hands came up slowly and covered her face, hiding It from view. She could feel warm tears against her palms. The presence fluttered, seeming to come to as she rose unsteadily to her feet. Her legs no longer stuck out at odd angles. No longer throbbed when she touched them. They held her weight.  She could stand. Could feel the rocks and petals beneath her toes.

 

**_Chara…?_ **

The child’s voice came out as a whisper. Fearful. Soft.

****

Daphne’s hands came to her chest. Nothing made sense. But she didn’t care. He was alive. She hadn’t lost him.

They were alive.

**_W-where am I…?_ **

 

_Shhh s-shhh… you’re here with me._

**_I-I don’t understand… My body…I couldn’t…_ **

****

_It’s alright. Everything is going to be alright now._

Daphne wasn’t sure how she knew this. She should have been afraid. Any normal human being would be. But when you have nothing, not even the will to keep living—what is left to fear? To feel nothing. Then to suddenly unexpectedly have something to care about. It trumps all reason and doubt.

Questions, suspicious, doubts fears answers and reason would all come later. This moment belonged to _joy_. To relief.

 

Daphne didn't know where she found the strength to start climbing. She had spent the last few months in bed and the last few weeks starving herself in despair. She was thin. Shrunken and lean. How did she make that climb?

All things considered she shouldn't be able to stand either. She was certain she had broken her legs when she hit. But now? They took weight. They didn't even hurt. And her bone thin arms somehow found the strength to bare her up the wall of the chasm. Was this him helping her? Giving her strength to keep climbing towards the light? Or was it already a part of her? At this point, where he ended and she began was hard to tell. But it didn't really matter. Not anymore.

 

_She was climbing towards the light._

 

Daphne was a fighter.That’s what they all said about her. And now for the first time in months, She had something to fight for.

 

_My name is Daphne._

**_A-Asriel._ **

****

**_#####################################################################################_ **

****

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

****

**Chapter Summary:**

**This chapter briefly chronicles the details of Daphne’s car accident. She is mortally injured and trapped in the cab of her destroyed car for many hours. No one thought it was possible for her to still be alive by the time the extractors would be able to reach her. But out of fear of what would happen to her unborn child if she died, Daphne stays lucid for hours, and loses consciousness shortly before she is extracted.**

**When she awakens over a week has past. She learns that the doctors performed an emergency cesarean section. But were ultimately unsuccessful in saving her baby, which was her whole motivation for not letting herself die. By then though the doctors have managed to stabilize her condition.  Her recovery process is slow and difficult.  Her health deteriorates in a physical therapy clinic.**

**After four months they manage to reconstruct her hands and arms. However her nerves have died. She begs the doctors to keep trying but in the end she is unable to regain any feeling or  functionality. The loss of her hands is the straw that breaks the camel’s back for her.  Art has been  her only means of dealing with trauma and  confused emotions in the past. And without that release, she slowly loses the will to live.**

**Daphne attempts to commit suicide by throwing herself into the chasm on mount Ebbot. Through some act of fate, she falls as the barrier begins to come down. Daphne sees the stolen human souls escape through the mouth of the chasm begins to die, but is thrown into a delirious panic when she hears a child scream which throws her into a post traumatic panic. She sees Asriel’s soul attempt to escape the chasm, but fall. He begins to fall apart.**

**The memory of being in the crash and fighting to stay awake so her baby would live, takes control, and she catches Asriel’s soul as it falls, and cradles it to herself as they begin to die. Driven to insane grief and guilt from being unable to save her own child from dying, she instinctively tries to protect him as they lose conciseness.**

**When she awakes, Asriel is gone, and she is covered in monster dust. Realizing he Is gone she goes into a frantic search for him, reliving the devastation of waking in the hospital to learn that her baby has been removed from her while she was unconscious. When she can’t find him she breaks down. But as dawn reaches the chasm she realizes that she can feel and move her hands. Her bones are no longer broken and she has healed completely. She is confused until she feels Asriel awaken inside of her. Their souls have bonded, and saved one another from death.**

**Daphne does not understand what has happened, but is too overcome with joy and relief to feel afraid or question any of it. The chapter ends with Daphne climbing out of the dark chasm and into the dawn of a new day.**

 

****


	43. INTERLUDE 7: Picking up the Pieces (part 4)

 

 AN: Hey guys. Got a long one today. Took a long time and a lot of drafts to get this one out. Still not sure if its the best way of ending this interlude. But I did my best. 

 

 

After this interlude is over we'll be getting into some deeper aspects of the plot. I'm not sure which character we should follow next. There are a couple possibilities but I'd like to hear your thoughts before making a decision. Naturally all of these plotlines will be explored eventually. But I just want to know what you all want to hear about first. 

So if you want to help decide, head on over to the SFTD blog on tumblr to cast your vote. 

 

http://sftdt.tumblr.com/post/146966939167/were-reaching-a-point-in-the-story-where-we-could

 

As always, enjoy the chapter. 

 

 

#### @ [Orion (g0at)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/g0at/pseuds/Orion): Thanks buddy. Glad you liked it.

#### @ [Shewhoshines](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Shewhoshines/pseuds/Shewhoshines): Good to know. I was nervous about posting that one. Its pretty graphic compared to my usual ware.

#### @ ThrowawaySpecificallyForThisComment: Glad you approve. As for the Frisk meeting Asriel in the ruins bit—that didn’t happen in this timeline. A lot of things that can happen in the game didn’t make It into the timeline we follow in this story. For example, in this universe, Chara never sucessfully completed a genocide run. She never made it past Sans, so she never faced Asgore or had the option to erase the world.

#### And on this pacifist run, Frisk didn’t return to the first room and speak with Asriel. I tried to resolve this with the plot so that they could, but it didn’t fit in the timeline I’d establish so it was scrapped.

#### Hope that makes sense!

#### @ [Menoshe](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Menoshe/pseuds/Menoshe): JANE! STOP THIS CRAZY THING!!!

#### 

#### @ eJ121: Sorry about that.

#### @ [Malik_likeswaffles](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Malik_likeswaffles/pseuds/Malik_likeswaffles): lol

#### @ [MintChocolate](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MintChocolate/pseuds/MintChocolate): Hello Mary, its nice to see you got a permanent account. Don’t worry too much on Flowey’s existence. Its important to the plot and will be explained (eventually). Glad you survived the feels. ;)

 

 

 

 

INTERLUDE 7: Picking up the pieces (part 4)

 

 

 

 

Sans made a big point of scrubbing his hands. He hunched over the large sinks used to clean stray animals. It took three passes with soap and hot water before he was satisfied. The human wandered into the back with him. She had fished a box of granola bars from the cabinet and was currently unwrapping one. Or at least, he thought they were granola bars. The bars were a greenish tan color, speckled with blue and brown splotches. They looked like that multicolored foam padding you find when you rip up the carpeting. And—in all honesty— looked about as appetizing as old carpet insulation. Sans pulled a face, watching her pop one into her mouth.

 

“Breakfast of champions?” he grunted.

 

 "It’s a…wheatgrass, and steel cut oat protein bar, with prunes and semisweet chocolate chips. Least that’s what the box says.” Daphne squinted at the print on the back of the package before shrugging.  Then she bit down hard. A bite broke off with a brittle crunch as if she was munching on gravel. “Want one?” she offered, noticing the disgusted look on his face.

 

“Pass” he turned his back to her once more.

 

“Nice self-preservation instincts there bud.” The human’s flat snort was punctuated by another crunch. Sans snorted.

 

 “Yeah. I don’t think I quite **grassp** the concept of eating cookies made of sod.”

“Eh. Its supposed to be good for you or something. Makes you gain weight.  Sides, th’ Doc says I’m not allowed to skip meals anymore.” Daphne mused lightly. Sans paused at this. But didn’t turn around.

_Skipping meals?_

_Weight gain?_

He thought back to how emaciated she’d looked without her usual heavy layers of clothing. His mouth formed a line.

Ah.

With the puppy delivery, Daphne had no doubt been stuck there at the shelter since the early afternoon. It was almost four am now.  Did that mean she hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday? Was that why she was actually choking down those nutrition bars? The skeleton chewed on the thought, a deep scowl starting to bloom across his skull.

If she was so hungry, why hadn’t she just asked him to bring her something when she called? He’d gone out and bought dinner for Flowey, and he didn’t even like the guy. He could have easily picked something up for her on his way.  So why not just ask him? Was she too proud to ask for help?

_Or did she think he would have turned her down?_

The skeleton’s scowl deepened.

 _True_. She had said that she knew he was only there because he wanted things from her. The observation had been true enough when she said it.  but the implication was definitely there. The implication that he only did things for other people if there was something in it for him. And that he would put in only the smallest degree of effort required to get what he wanted.

 

Was that was she thought of him? Some lazy, self-serving jerk that only thought about himself? Sans huffed. It was an unflattering light to be cast in. But considering how he’d acted around her, the accusation fell uncomfortably close to the mark.

 

 Sans lifted his eyes and  cast a subtle glance in the human’s direction. Daphne had her back to him. She stood leaning in the doorway separating the two back rooms. She was just...standing there in silence, watching the puppies sleep. Sans frowned at her bony shoulder blades. He took a deep breath, taking several mental steps back. He was doing it again. Letting his paranoia of her--of not being able to read her-- get under his skin.

 

He shouldn’t cast aspersions on her. He didn’t even know her. And so far every negative thing he’d assumed about her had turned out to be false. He assumed the worst. Just like he always did. But aside from being human and withholding the truth from him--she hadn’t done anything close to deserving his contempt. 

 

And what he did know about her?

 

He knew she was compassionate. Even if it was hidden beneath a cool exterior and perpetual scowl. She showed compassion for beings who neither deserved nor appreciated her patience. Awful people--Like Flowey, who Sans considered too soulless, too irredeemably vile to even count as a person anymore. Evil people--like  Chara. Sans couldn’t understand why Daphne protected her. It wasn’t ignorance. She knew exactly what that demon was capable of. Why did she even waste her time on such people? Cruel people. hateful people--like him? Sans hated the people she worked to redeem. Why did she even seek him out? Knowing what he was?

 

 Not only did he despise her friends, but he hated her very race. Hated their ignorance and their violence. Hated the aggravatingly unfair amount of power they held over his people’s future. Sans hated them. Hated them because they hated _him_ first. Because they looked at innocent hard working people who just wanted to live out their lives in peace—and saw devils. Saw them as less than people, and little more than common beasts.

 

Sans hated them. All of them. He was cold. Hard. With a hatred so sharp it could _kill_.

So maybe humans were right about monsters. Or at the very least—right about at least _one_ of them.

Sans really was _dangerous_.

 

A _monster_ in _every_ sense of the word.

 

How did the human do it? How did Daphne make tolerance look so _easy_? As if it was the most natural thing in the world?   As if anyone would had done the same thing in her place? As if the very _existence_ of somebody like her in this cynical world wasn’t anything out of the ordinary? As if she herself wasn’t an absolute marvel?

It was a little shameful. However Sans found himself wishing she _wasn’t_ human. So that he could go right on hating humans without a smug little contradiction muddling up perfectly good ire with her existence. Sans didn’t pretend to be a good person. He was anything but compassionate. Especially towards humans. But maybe with this one. Maybe just this once.

This human _deserved_ a little bit of trust.

 

The water had gone cold. Sans let out a sigh, and turned the sink off. He glanced around for a towel to dry his hands. But the only thing he could find was a wadded up shirt. He took it and started wiping his hands off. He cleared his nonexistent throat.

“Sorry. Took longer than I thought.” Sans grunted.

 

“s’alright. Thought you **drowned** for a minute there though.” The human grunted over her shoulder. The skeleton snorted.

“Jeez kid, that pun is a bit **watered** down, even for you.” He mused. The human hummed, turning on her heels to regard him.

“Well, I’ve always had a **dry** sense of…of…”  Daphne trailed off. Her eyes fell heavily on the shirt in Sans’ hands and the pun she’d been setting up fell flat. “Where did you get that?” her impassive voice took on a slight edge. Her skin was two shades paler than usual and her normally dull half-massed eyes were wide. _That should have been his first clue._ The skeleton blinked.

 

“uh. Heh. **Water** you talking about? It was right here on the counter.”

The human grimaced, biting her lower lip. The skeleton glanced down at shirt in his hands unraveling it slowly. There was something wet there. A thick sticky substance the consistency of mucus. It had a slight pinkish tint to it. The skeleton felt his stomach shrivel up, and the urge to gag.

 

 

"Pipsqueak...what am I covered in...?" He growled. Not sure he really wanted to know. Daphne sucked in her cheeks, shifting her weight back, as if bracing herself for impact.

 

" _Birthing fluids..."_

 

It took all the willpower he had not to throw the shirt in the human’s direction and let out an embarrassingly flustered yelp. Instead he dropped the shirt on the counter, entire body as rigid as a board.  

“Why...?” the word came out as a hiss, escaping his clenched teeth. Why did horrible things keep happening to him? Why couldn’t he just catch a break? The human unwrapped another protein bar for herself.

 

“Miracle of life big guy,” She shrugged flatly. “It’s a beautiful thing.” The skeleton shot her a dirty look at this. The human hadn’t outright laughed at his misery. But she could at least have the decency to sound a little more apologetic. Some irrational part of him felt as though she’d planned this, despite her having nothing to do with it.

 

"Why does _everything_ about you have to be horrible and disgusting?" Sans hissed, making a wide gesture in the human’s direction. Daphne took a rather large bite of her protein bar. Her nose wrinkled.

 

"Why do you think I took my shirt off?"

 

The skeleton let out a growl clapping a hand to his temples. Of course. Stupid question; stupid answer. Great. The human gave his bent arm an unexpected shove.

 

“whoa, whoa. Hands buddy—placenta fingers.” she grunted urgently. The skeleton let out a yelp, tearing his hands away from his face in revulsion.

_Oh COME ON!_

He stumbled ungracefully, nearly slipping on the slick tile. His fruitless attempts at keeping his cool, were about to devolve into snarls and swearing when an unexpected sound spilled out into the open air. One he never thought he’d hear from this perpetually deadpan human.

_A laugh._

A real one that broke off into a thick unladylike snort. The skeleton froze, his frazzled mind, faltered, like a skipping record. He zeroed in on the human’s face and stared. Daphne had a hand clapped over her mouth, trying and failing to force down her amusement. Her dull eyes had come alive wrinkling up at the corners. Mirth had dimpled her cheeks, crinkled up her sharp little nose. And for a moment, she was almost beautiful.

Then in an instant, it was gone. Laughter. A brief glimmer of surprise behind the human’s eyes. Then nothing. The gaiety disappeared back beneath her usual emotionless stare. Sans opened his mouth to say something. Say _what exactly? ‘_ Gee I didn’t know you had _real_ feelings _?’_ Or, ‘ _Wowee_ , you’re not _completely_ hideous when you actually decide to _emote_ for a change?’ The skeleton shook himself. _No. Bad. Pretend it didn’t happen._  Sans wasn’t sure why, but he felt like he’d seen something important. Some facet of Daphne he’d never known existed. He realized he was _glad_ he’d seen her real laugh. Because to be honest— he got the feeling it didn’t happen very often.

 

He shook himself off a second time, focusing in on the matter at hand.

 

“You uh… You got any bleach in this dump?” he asked starting to scrub down his hands for the tenth time that night.

“Yeah…” The human fished a gallon of cleaner from the cabinet, hefting it over to the skeleton. At that moment there was a loud pounding on the door followed instantly by a chorus of squeaky barks. Sans sagged in exhaustion. That'd be Papyrus. Damn. His tiny window of opportunity to interrogate Daphne in private just flew out the door. The human cast a brief glance towards the front of the shop.

 

"I'll get it." She went to hand the jug over. But she paused mid motion. Her eyes narrowed. "You sure it's safe to use this in your skin?"

“ _What_ skin?” The skeleton scoffed. Daphne gave her head a little shake and set jug of bleach on the counter next to him.

 

 _“Right.”_ She said. The pounding came again this time with a muffled--though still very loud-- voice. "Coming" she called. Daphne gave the skeleton's arm a sympathetic pat before disappearing into the front of the shelter. Sans let out a belabored groan and started bleaching his bones. Over the sound of running water, he could hear Papyrus’ animated voice conversing blithely in the other room. A tired smile found its way onto Sans’ skull. When he was finished he turned off the water.  He dried his hands on his pant leg. He could still hear Papyrus talking in the next room. They sounded distracted. Sans smiled. _Good_. He vanished without another word.

***

 

A bag of chips and a cold hotdog from the gas station wasn’t exactly gourmet cuisine. But it was four am, and besides; it’s the thought that counts. Right?

Sans tried to ignore the fact that he was buying the human something to eat this as less of an act of chivalry and more of a ‘ha! See? I’m not a complete asshole after all’ kind of thing. The reasons weren’t important. The skeleton reappeared in the back room, just a few feet shy of the door separateing him from the kennel. He was about to head in but paused.

Daphne and Papyrus were still talking. But something was off about it. Papyrus was _whispering._ Sure, it was more of a stage whisper that could be heard even through the heavy door but even so—it sounded alien coming from his brother’s mouth. Sans leaned closer to thedoor and inclined his head, trying to catch what they were saying.

 

 

“She doesn’t like me anymore…” Papyrus whispered.

 

“She doesn’t?” Daphne returned. The taller skeleton’s voice broke slightly, seeming to grow a little quieter.

 

“ _No_ she doesn’t...”

 

“Why do you say that?”

Papyrus didn’t answer for a moment. And when he did, It was so quiet and miserable sounding that Sans actually had to strain to hear him.

“I think I may have crossed a few, eh, _barriers_ with her that I shouldn’t have.”

 

“What do you mean?” Daphne muttered.

 

“The last time I saw her she—I was upset. Working through some…complex feelings…worries. I talked to her about them. She was very nice to me. I thought she was supportive. But… I suppose I must have overwhelmed her with my problems. Because after that she didn’t…come around anymore.” Papyrus whispered. The human didn’t reply. She simply listened, keeping silent.

 

“Sans says that if she is not returning my calls then I should leave her alone because she’s being rude, and I ‘don’t need to deal with that kind of garbage.’” Papyrus let out a breathy humorless laugh. “Sans always sugar coats things with me. Thinks I don’t notice. I guess that’s his way of saying—sorry Paps, you scared her off with your big stupid personality. Now stop bothering the human before you figure out that she can’t stand you anymore.” The taller skeleton’s voice petered off into a sniffle. Sans felt as if he’d just been punched in the stomach.

 

“Human. I apologize. You must think I’m very foolish…This must come as an enormous shock to you. But I-I the great papyrus…Have never had many friends…” Papyrus mumbled after a moment. “I used to have a _best_ friend. We did everything together. And after t-they…”

_Oh hell…_

Sans slowly opened the door a crack so he could peek in. Papyrus was sitting on the floor with a puppy propped up against his knee while he fed it. Daphne sat so close that their folded legs were touching. She had her hands in her lap, listening patiently as the taller skeleton spoke.

“Its stupid. I guess I thought that Charlotte was my first real friend since… Frisk died. I thought…” Papyrus shook his skull, eyes focusing on his knees. “It doesn’t matter now. She _hates_ me.”

Daphne studied the monster’s face, expression flat. Then she scooted a little closer, and laid a hand on his arm.

 

“I don’t think Charlotte _could_ hate you.” She stated. Her voice was as flat as ever. But she ran her fingers gently up and down his radius in a soothing gesture. And her dull eyes were softer than Sans was used to seeing them.  “I don’t think she could hate anyone really. Its just not in her nature.”

 

“Then why is she avoiding me?” Papyrus sniffled. The human studied his arm, seeming to choose her words carefully.

 

“People are complicated. Sometimes they do things that don’t always make sense from the outside looking in. You say you haven’t seen her in four weeks?” Daphne asked. Papyrus shrugged lamely. “Well. since then, she’s been going through a really rough time. And I don’t think it has anything to do with you sharing your problems with her.”

 

“I don’t understand.” His voice came out with a slight whine. Daphne closed her eyes.

 

“Sometimes when people get hurt, they close themselves off from others. Set up camp in their own little corner of self pity. That’s a dangerous place to go by yourself. Because when you do that, its easier to believe that you really are alone. You forget all the people that care about you. Sometimes people make really big mistakes when they think they’re alone and that no one wants them.”

Papyrus’ head came up slowly, glassy eyes focusing on the human’s expression.

 

“You….you think she is in _trouble_? D-does she need help?” He whispered.

 

“I think that what she needs more than anything right now is a friend.” Daphne stated. She raised her chin, squinting one eye shut to regard the skeleton. “Are you up to the challenge?”

 

“I-I” Papyrus’ eyes darted, but he looked slightly more hopeful than before, his back a little straighter. “What if…what if I come to her and she does not wish to see me?”

 

“What if she needs you, but no one comes?” Daphne returned with a small shrug. Papyrus wrung his hands.

 

“But…How would I even see her? She—Sans says that bad things are happening on the human side of town right now. Too dangerous to go alone.”

Daphne’s eyes flashed to the doorway where Sans stood. They locked onto the smaller skeleton’s eyelights and darkened into a scowl. Sans drew back slightly, a shiver dancing up and down his spine. _That look._ So stern. Challenging. His mouth went dry.

_Where had he seen that look before?_

 

“Never mind what Sans says. I’ll talk to him. You find your friend. It’ll be okay.” She rose to her feet and offered the monster a hand. “We’ll go together.”

Papyrus stared, eyes flickering between the proffered hand and the human’s face. He sniffled. Then accepted it.

 

“T-thank you…”

 

Sans shut the door quietly. His eye flaring up as anger coursed through his body. Yet he suppressed the urge to storm in, grab the human and give her a  violent shake demanding just who the _hell_ she thought she was. Papyrus was out there. Confronting her in front of him would just make everything worse. So he waited. Stewing in silence. He could wait. He’d get the chance to say his piece soon enough.

 

Forty-five minutes later Daphne re-entered the back room. She strode right past Sans as if he wasn’t there, and picked up her phone. Daphne set an alarm for two hours on her phone before setting it aside on the countertop.

Sans clenched his fists, glaring down at the human. She turned to regard him, expression flat.

 

“That for me?” she motioned to the abandoned hotdog and chips on the counter. “You shouldn’t have.”

 

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have.” He seethed between clenched teeth. He could see blue light bouncing off of her pearlescent face and knew his magic was still flaring. He must have looked about ready to murder someone. And at the moment, he didn’t care. The human raised her chin to him.

 

“Go apologize to your brother. You hurt his feelings.” She stated flatly. Sans magic gave off another violent flash his chest heaving with rage.

“How dare you?” he seethed, forcing his voice to stay quiet and low. Papyrus was just in the next room with the dogs. “You know _exactly_ why I don’t want him around that little demon. And yet you have the _balls_ to come around filling his head with ideas.”

The human folded her arms.

“How dare I?” she repeated flatly. Sans let out a low growl. He slammed his fist hard into the wall directly behind the human’s head, using its weight to lean in close to her face. 

 

“This is _none_ of your business…” he growled. The human shut her eyes, taking a deep breath. When she reopened them, they locked like lazerbeams onto Sans’.

 

“Don’t fuck with me buddy.” She intoned, a cool austerity edging its way into her voice. “You _made_ this my business when you decided to attack an innocent person.”

The skeleton drew his face back a little, eyes narrowing into a glare.

 

“Innocent?” He chuckled humorlessly. “You know damn well what that little bitch did…”

 

“And Charlotte? What did she do to deserve what she got?” Daphne replied calmly, she stuck her hands in her pockets and leaned back to peer at him. “If you’re going to pass judgement on everyone, you lose the right to pitch a fit when someone does the same thing to you.”

 

“You have no right…”

 

“That’s not up to you to decide.” Daphne returned. She pressed a hand to her temples, taking several calming breaths. “You want to keep Chara from regaining control. Don’t you?”

 

“Obviously.” Sans growled blackly. Daphne put a slender hand on the monsters chest and pushed. Sans stumbled back a step, startled by the unexpected strength behind it. He didn’t think she was capable of exerting that kind of force on him.

 

“Then _stop_ making it easier for her to take it.” Daphne grunted. She ducked under Sans’ arm and stalked over to the counter. Sans followed her with his eyes, brows furrowing.

 

“ _Excuse_ me?”

“If you want Charlotte to stay in control, then isolating and threatening her is the _worst_ thing you can do.” Daphne picked up the hotdog and took a large unladylike bite. Sans rounded on her, fists clenching up.

 

“What are you talking about?” He grunted. The human chewed and swallowed.

 

“You don’t know much about people. Do you?” She observed. “Think about it. If you take someone like Charlotte, and take away all the good people in her life that support her, who do you think she’ll have left to turn to?”

Sans felt a chill, he opened his mouth to reply, then closed it dumbly. He hadn’t considered that. His mind echoed back to how Charlotte had looked after their fight. He’d felt like he’d taken something from her. Innocence maybe. In that moment she’d looked more like that demon than he’d ever before. The skeleton swallowed dryly. Was Daphne right? Were his attempts to keep everyone safe actually endangering them more?

 

 

“She’s not going to hurt him.” Daphne sighed, finishing off her meal in three more gargantuan bites. Sans sank slowly into the chair across from her.

 

“And just how would _you_ know?”

 

“Because Charlotte’s still in control.” Daphne replied. “if Chara had taken over we’d know it.” Sans ground his teeth, fingers coming up to massage the sides of his cranium.

 

“Why does it have to be _him_?” He muttered. It could have been anyone else in the world. Why did Papyrus have to get mixed up in all of this? The human leaned over and patted his hand.

 

“I get it. You’re worried about what will happen if Chara gets loose around your brother.” Daphne mused flatly. “But maybe you should be more worried about where Chara came from in the first place.” The skeleton raised his eyes.

 

“what’s that supposed to mean?” He said. Daphne shook her head.

 

“You’re just going to have to trust me.”

 

“Why should I trust _you_?” he growled.

 

“Because I’m trying to help. And right now, I’m the only one left to take your side.” Daphne rose to her feet slowly, looking drained. “Now get your ass up and go talk to your brother.”

 

Sans clenched and unclenched his fists, taking a deep breath.  He’d made up his mind before, about trusting her. But he hadn’t realized just how hard that would be. Just what was he supposed to do? Without another word He got up and stormed into the other room, slamming the door behind him. Papyrus sat perfectly still on the ground with six balls of fur piled in his arms. His face was practically glowing with happiness.  Sans caught sight of him there and paused, some of his anger seeping off and evaporating into the empty air. Papyrus’ head came up and he grinned.

 

“They’re sleeping.” Papyrus whispered. Sans ran a hand over his skull and returned the smile, making his way quietly across the room to sit down with his brother.

 

“They look dog tired. Why not put em in the bed?” Sans asked.

 

“Because the tiny green humans says that they would normally be cuddling with their mother to help them form stronger familial bonds and set the foundation for social skills.” Papyrus explained. “ And since she is gone. I the great Papyrus have decided to step in as a worthy substitute. What’s more cuddly than a skeleton?”

Sans’ grin grew more genuine, he let off a weak chuckle.

 

“Heh. Got me there bro.”

 

They sat in silence for a long moment. Sans watched his brother from the corners of his eyes. Should he confront Papyrus about what he overheard? He certainly wanted to. But how to even begin? He didn’t have to think on it for long. Papyrus beat him to the punch.  

 

“The green human is taking me to visit _my_ tiny human.” Papyrus muttered, his eyes focused on the animals in his arms. Sans felt a tug in his soul. _His_ human. Oh damn they were in trouble.

 

“O-oh?” Sans replied, trying to keep the revulsion out of his voice. Papyrus nodded, avoiding his brother’s eye.

 

“I know you have said that she is rude. And fake. And not worth my time. But… s-still…” He lowered his head. “I believe In her.”

**‘W- well that's not what I expected… But… St… still! I believe in you! You can do a little better! Even If you don't think so! I promise!’**

A bubble of despair rose in Sans’ chest.

_No. Not again._

“Please…” Sans voice came out a low croak. Papyrus shifted the puppies into the crook of one arm before draping the other around Sans’ shoulders and pulling him in.

 

“I know. You don’t want me to get hurt. I understand…” Papyrus cooed. “But I can handle myself. You don’t have to protect me all the time.”

 

Sans buried his face into Papyrus’ nightshirt, all but clinging to him. He hadn’t done this since that first reset. That morning he awoke to find Papyrus alive after a full night of weeping over his murdered dust.

 

“S-sans…? Why are you shaking…?” Papyrus ducked his chin, eyes searching. “Sans…brother? Are you crying? W-whats wrong?”  Sans hid his face away from view, pressing tight into his brother’s embrace. His shoulders began to shake with silent sobs. He couldn’t do this. Couldn’t watch his brother die again, knowing that this time it would be permanent. Knowing that everything he cared about would be lost for good. Papyrus lowered the dogs to his lap before wrapping both arms around his brother and drawing him in close. “P-please. I can help you. I-I promise I’m not too stupid to understand. Please…” Papyrus’ voice came out a soft whine, and he started rocking, fat tears spattering down onto Sans’ skull. “Please…please just let me in…”

 

“I-I…” Sans couldn’t find the words. He didn’t dare say more for fear of his voice breaking. He closed his eyes, trying to calm his choked breathing. “I-I just…don’t want to lose you…” Papyrus’ grip tightened around Sans.

 

“I know. I know you’re scared. I-I wish you would tell me why.” Papyrus whispered. “But I need you to trust me. I’m not going to leave you. I promise.” Sans’ breath hitched in his throat giving way to another quiet sob. Trust. There was that word again. Did no one understand just how difficult a request that was? Sans couldn’t lose him again. He was all he had left in the world. He had to protect him. Had to keep him safe. Keep everything from falling apart. Papyrus’ hand rubbed circles into the small of Sans back. His eyes warm. Begging him to trust his judgement. Sans felt a hand of dread wrap around his soul and squeeze. But he made up his mind.

 

“I-I trust you.” He breathed. The arms surrounding him began to shake. Papyrus lowered his face closer and rubbed his forehead into the top of his brother’s skull.

“Thank you.” Papyrus whispered. “Thank you for believing in me…”

 

They stayed like that, curled tight against one another, like children seeking comfort in a thunderstorm. Sans stayed with him until his brother’s breathing evened out, and the quiet snores of dreamless sleep began drifting down from Papyrus’ skull.  Then, he carefully untangled himself from Papyrus’ arms and got up. He  moved the puppies from his brother’s lap, settling them back onto the pile of rags. He paid his brother one last long look before heading back into the other room where he’d left the human.

They had an argument to settle.

 

Sans found Daphne fast asleep, curled up tight on the bags of dogfood. He knelt down next to her, reaching for her shoulder so he could shake her awake. But he hesitated. The human looked as exhausted as Sans felt. She seemed more fragile than usual. Heavy bags hung beneath her eyes. Her pale skin was dotted with goosebumps and the little blonde hairs on her arms stood up straight. Again, he felt a strange tug of familiarity, as though he’d seen this all before. Sans lowered his hand back to his lap, heaving a soft growling sigh. Where was all that anger from before? Despite how upset he’d been, why he couldn’t bring himself to disturb her?

What was wrong with him? She was the one who should feel bad. She was the one who stuck her nose where it didn’t belong. She was the one who…who…

Sans shook his head. Stupid. He was being stupid.  Without a word He stripped off his large fluffy coat and laid it over her curled body. She was so puny that she practically disappeared beneath its bulk. He tucked the edges in around her, careful not to rouse her with the motion. She drew in a breath and the skeleton froze worried he'd awakened her. But the human merely curled in on herself cuddling the coat closer to her. He watched uneasily, wondering if she'd move again. When she didn't he allowed the tension to leave his shoulders. He leaned back against the stack of dog food bags, eyeing her blandly.

 

Why did he care about waking her? In all honesty he should have been trying to keep her awake. He couldn’t convince her that she was wrong if she was asleep. And she couldn’t answer  his questions if she was unconscious.

Why should he care? She wasn't anything important to him. Not a friend. Barely an ally. And a human of all things. Why did he care whether or not she was comfortable?

She was a _problem._

He should have left Papyrus home. Then he could have prevented her from filling his skull with dangerous ideas. He could have interrogated her as he had planned to in the first place. Yet, despite everything, Sans couldn't help but feel glad he'd come.

He thought back to that look. The one she’d given him while talking with Papyrus. It had been so familiar. And the way it sent shivers down his spine was uncanny. There was something about her that reminded him of someone else. Someone he knew. But who? The skeleton thinned his eyes, trying to fix the image of her scowl in his mind.  So cold. Emotionless. _Challenging_. The realization hit him like a freight train and the lights left his eyes.

 

_Chara._

 

That’s who Daphne reminded him of.  She was calm. Collected. Seemingly fearless. She rarely showed emotions. Rarely smiled. Rarely laughed.  She was dangerously intelligent, with dead looking eyes that were always watching. _Calculating_.

Sans swallowed hard, running a hand over his sweaty skull. The more similarities he found the more shocked he was that he hadn't seen it sooner. An ambiguous childhood. Unhappiness. Detachment. _Secrets_. Then later being adopted into a loving family and given a second chance at happiness. Sans felt dizzy. How could he have not noticed?

 

They had that same hauntedness to their eyes. As if they'd once been empty. Emotionless. Careless. lost. as if their soul had floated away long ago but their body stayed adrift. Moving aimlessly through the motions of living like a ship without a crew. Empty. And in Chara’s case, she had stayed that way. Drifting until something else—something more _sinister_ pirated her away. 

Sans shivered peering down at the sleeping woman. He willed himself to hate her. Why didn't he? Daphne was a walking facsimile of everything he always hated. So why couldn't he hate her?  Despite all his fears and reservations about this human, he'd hardly been able to conjure the will to even dislike her. Why?

She was a threat.

 

So why couldn’t he _hate_ her?

 

Maybe because in spite their similarities, Chara and Daphne were not the same. Not really. Daphne had one thing that Chara didn't.

 _Empathy_.

She cared about other people.  Maybe It was her compassion that had redeemed her in his eyes. Saved her tipping over the edge.  From becoming what Chara was now. The moment she stopped thinking about herself. When she stopped focusing on her own unhappiness that was when she found a reason to live. Maybe it was _empathy_ that saved her in the end.

Sans didn’t understand her at all.

Why did Daphne put up with Flowey? Why did she work so hard to keep him alive? She could have just left him where she found him. No one would have blamed her for staying out of it. Flowey was incapable of real affection. A soulless husk of the person he once was. Leaving him to die would have been merciful. Why did she care about him? She had to know that he could never _ever_ love her back.

 

So why try?

 

 

And then there was Chara. Sans could understand wanting to protect the other one. The green one. But why look out for Chara when she was well aware of what that demon was capable of? Why watch the back of someone who wouldn't hesitate to bury a knife in yours?

And then there was Papyrus. Why had she been so kind to him? Papyrus gotten emotional, loud and touchy feely with her. All things Sans knew most humans found horribly uncomfortable coming from strangers. But if she was bothered by him she hadn’t showed it. In fact, the moment he'd started getting emotional she'd instantly moved closer to him, rather than away. In her own flat, emotionless way, she'd been comforting. Like her first instinct was to _nurture_.

The skeleton froze eyes slowly coming up. That was it. Daphne was emotionless, and calm like Chara. But she was also patient and kind like someone else he knew. Nurturing. Gentle. Forgiving.

 Like _Tori_.

 

_That was it._

That's why Sans gave a damn about the human. She cared about the people who didn't deserve it.  People who couldn't love her back. P She had that integrity to her you couldn't help but admire even if you didn't agree with her.

 

Sans felt cold. Was he looking at what that demon _might_ have been? What she might have turned out like if things went a little differently for her? _That was it._ That was what Daphne had been trying to tell him before. The difference between devils and men.

 _Empathy._ Relationships.

  _Love_.

And the spaces left behind when love is gone? When you lose the ability to care for anything. Even for yourself?  

 _That's_ the place where _monsters_ grow.

That’s where _demons_ are born.

 

He wasn't sure which thought terrified him more. Seeing how close Daphne had been to becoming like Chara. Or how close Chara had been to becoming like Daphne.

 

It was their capacity for _empathy_ that defined them.

 

The power Charlotte possessed. The sentimentality he'd dismissed as weakness. That was the force that decided what people became. To have empathy and to show it creates saints. Breeds heroes.  Banishes hatred.

To lose your empathy. To care for nothing. Not even for yourself. That is how people became like Chara. And knowing this, knowing the potential for good inside even the worst of villains….

 Maybe, just _maybe_ it was more than just foolishness;

To have sympathy for the devil.

 

Daphne cared more about his brother’s happiness than keeping on his good side. She cared about Flowey even though he was empty.  And  just like Tori, despite how deeply she cared for so many people.

 

She always seemed to be _alone_.

 

The skeleton reached out, hesitant, and ran a hand gingerly over the woman's hair. Why did Sans care? The answer was simple. On matters of the heart, the answers always are.

 

Daphne cared about others. So that made Sans _want_ to care about her.

 

It was strange. The prospect of having a friend again. Sans had always maintained a small horde of fair weather friends. But they knew only the mask.  The lighthearted perpetually grinning comedian who was always ready with a joke to lighten the mood. They knew him. But only the parts of him he allowed them to see. Daphne knew more about him than most people. And he had just met her. He wasn't used to being genuine with people. He wondered if his true self was _ugly_. _Unpleasant_ to be around.

 

Sans rose crossing the room to check Daphne’s phone. The timer had only four minutes left. He cast the human a glance. Then turned off the timer and slipped the phone into his pocket.  He’d made up his mind to trust her. The thought was terrifying, letting anyone into his dark little world. But he’d made his decision. Sans went into the other room and started mixing up some baby formula, taking care not make too much noise.

 _Let her sleep._ He could keep everything together for another two hours. Soon enough they’d all have to start making their hard choices, and living with the new realities that came with them. Let her rest just a little while longer.

  _Let her have one more dream._

 

And so he did.

 


	44. Chapter 26: Unwanted

AN:

 

 

The poll results are in and it looks like Charlotte is the winner, with Asgore coming in at a close second. So I figured I’d take this as an opportunity to explore them both a little. We finally get some insight into why Charlotte is the way she is. And Asgore is still emo about life. All aboard the feels train.

 

#### @[NekoAbunai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoAbunai/pseuds/NekoAbunai): I know, better late than never right?

#### @Random: I know what you mean. Whenever I write for him he ends up going off on these pointless tangents where he over analyzes everything. Half the time I have to go through and weed out most of it so it doesn’t bore the readers to tears.

#### He’s just one of those characters I guess.

#### @ThrowawaySpecificallyForThisComment: Glad you enjoyed the ride. As for the PTSD Sans bit, yeah I see where you’re coming from. People really like Sans so I think that they tend to portray him the way they’d like him to be rather than keeping to the source material. Nothing wrong with that though. I generally try to be as honest as possible when portraying people’s feelings and motives. I never want anything to feel phoned in or cheap.

#### And as for the face off thing, HA I’m glad you liked it. I was a bit worried people would be disappointed that their ‘fight’ didn’t have any actual punches thrown. Not sure why, but it seems like people really like reading about Sans going megalovania and beating the crap out of people. Not sure why. XD

#### @[plotholes_and_paradoxes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/plotholes_and_paradoxes/pseuds/plotholes_and_paradoxes): Why thank you! And welcome aboard!

 

 

 

 ############################################################################################################################

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 26: Unwanted

 

 

 

Charlotte awoke in a cold sweat. Hand clutching the front of her shirt. Another nightmare. Would they ever stop coming? With a shudder Charlotte took stock of her surroundings. Sterile white sheets, a scratchy seafoam green blanket made of thermal cotton, and a giant hospital bed surrounded by plastic white curtains.  A cold sterile room that smelled of lye and antiseptic.

Charlotte felt a lump form in her throat. Ah yes. She remembered now.

 

Alphys had brought her to the embassy’s Infirmary so she could get some rest for the night on something other than the doctor’s lumpy green couch. It had been a long day, and Alphys had kicked her examination into high gear, running test after test as she tried to figure out what had caused Charlotte’s soul to crack. None of Alphys previous scientific knowledge could explain how Charlotte could have fractured so badly without crumbling and dying. It defied logic. The tests dragged on well into the night, yielding few answers and even fewer reassurances.

 

The bruises and the bloody knob on charlotte’s head had been far easier to repair. Alphys had given Charlotte what could only be described as magical healing ramen noodles. By the time she’d finished eating, the gash on her head had closed up some and the swelling had gone down. The bruises had faded for the most part and she no longer had that awful pounding in the back of her skull. If not for the knowledge of the apparently fatal state of her soul—Charlotte would have felt as right as rain.

 

Even so, Alphys had insisted she stay at the embassy until that they could figure out what was wrong. Since Charlotte had no other clothing, Alphys lent her one of her graphic tee shirts to use as pajamas for the night. The shirt was extra-large on alphys, and Charlotte had to tie the back of the neckline with a rubber band to keep it from slipping off her shoulders altogether. It had a graphic of an anime catgirl on the front, and some Asian calligraphy. The graphic was loud and colorful, but thankfully not as sexualized as some of the other shirts Alphys had offered as viable options. Charlotte accepted the garment thankfully and the doctor assured her that someone would be by in the morning to bring her a fresh change of clothes.

Charlotte appreciated the sentiment but how long could she realistically stay? She already felt like she was imposing by sticking around as long as she did.  Despite Alphys’ kindness, Charlotte was painfully aware of the huge burden she’d just dropped onto the good doctor’s shoulders. Alphys hadn’t wanted this. When Charlotte first showed up she’d tried everything she could to get out of having to treat the human. And now that they knew Charlotte’s soul was cracking. Now that they knew that her life was in danger, and that Alphys might be one of the few alive who could save her—Charlotte was Alphys responsibility now. She was _stuck_ with her.

Charlotte shifted beneath her scratchy blankets, feeling like the biggest leech that ever lived. But what else could she do? It wasn’t as if she could have gone to a human doctor for problems with her _soul_.

She was trapped. Yet again. Forced to be a burden on a good person because she had nowhere else to go. Red’s words from earlier echoed back in Charlotte’s mind and she felt another wave of shame.

 

**_‘Your head hurts? Are you kidding me? That’s your excuse for sticking around? Oh come on! You’ve got legs. You could get up off your ass and walk outta here if you wanted. YOU just want to stick around and let that bucket of bolts gush over you._ **

****

**_How_ pathetic _…’_**

 

Charlotte pulled the covers over her head, willing herself to just go back to sleep. To forget where she was. Charlotte _hated_ hospitals. They made her insides twist like a black hole slowly growing in the pit of her stomach. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her everything important to her was about to be yanked out from under her feet.  The feeling of the blankets on her fingertips, the waxy floors and unwelcoming cleanness, gave off a sense of hopelessness. Every sight and smell broke off into a million sharp black memories that sank like needles into her heart.

 

**A sterile white room. Charlotte on her knees, kneeling by the side of a hospital bed. Her face pressed wetly into the itchy blankets, clutching the bedspread with desperate hands. Clinging. Weeping. Groping selfishly for just a little more time.**

**Her mother’s hand on the back of her head, running fingers through her hair. Her mother’s body, lying there in the bed. Hairless. Shrunken. Waxy-faced, with a frozen smile, and dull unseeing eyes. Gentle fingers running through her hair.**

**Then going still.**

_Don’t think about it._

 

Charlotte curled in on herself, pulling the pillow in closer. Hugging it to her chest like a teddy bear.

 

_Red…_

Charlotte thought, reaching out with her mind to the space where Red usually resided. Right then she didn’t care if Red hadn’t spoken to her since the phone call with Asgore. She didn’t care if Red was angry with her or called her pathetic for getting all misty eyed.

She just didn’t want to be alone.

 

_Please talk to me…_

No response. Red wasn’t asleep. Charlotte could feel her there, listening even though she refused to acknowledge Charlotte’s existence.  Charlotte sniffled closing her eyes. It was worth a try.

 Charlotte was alone.  Ignorable. And _unwanted_. Just as she always had been.

 

When her mother died, people had regarded Charlotte with a mixture of sadness and pity. But it was her step father Bernie that had been the real victim. He’d married Charlotte’s mother during Charlotte’s last year in middle school. The doctors found the tumor at the base of her spine when Charlotte was a freshman and they buried her before Charlotte even reached her junior prom. Yes. Bernie was the one who really deserved pity. He’d married the woman of his dreams and lost her within five years of marriage. And along with that loss, he was saddled with the responsibility of raising a teenage girl on his own. A girl that wasn’t even his.

Charlotte learned how to always be cheerful. She learned how to be both supportive and ignorable at the same time. She learned to do her chores long before being asked. How to make herself as small and unassuming as possible. She learned how to smile, even when there really wasn’t anything to smile about. Charlotte wanted to love Bernie. He was the closest thing to an actual father she’d ever known. And Bernie was good to her. He’d never gotten angry with her or even been the least bit unkind.

They lived together the remainder of Charlotte’s high school years. And they were almost happy.

Because despite his tolerance, Charlotte was old enough to see the walls behind Bernie’s eyes. She knew he’d never actually wanted her. She was burden on him. It was her mother he’d loved. It was her mother he had wanted. And once she was gone, Charlotte felt little more than an uninvited guest. A stranger in his house.  The brat he was stuck with because he married her mother. Little more than an awkward roommate, whose very face was a constant reminder of everything he’d lost.

 

_Red…_

Charlotte reached for Red’s conciseness one last time. She knew she probably wouldn’t get an answer. But even if Red ignored her, Charlotte knew she was at least listening.

_You were right. What you said before, about me sticking around because I wanted someone to be worried about me. You were right._

Red stirred faintly. But said nothing. Even so, Charlotte could tell she was really listening now. She’d said some of Red’s favorite words after all. You were right.

 

_I know you think the king is evil, and that I’m a fool for sticking around. But... I mean, we’re really lucky he didn't hurt us. A-and that he’s been so accommodating. He’s letting us stay here, and having his doctors try to fix us. I don’t know what will happen now. I’m scared. I-I think that right now, our only option is to stay and hope the doctors can save us._

Coldness started creeping out from Red. A sharp, icy brand of annoyance. But Charlotte kept pressing.

_He was so nice to me. And he’s offering to help us. M-maybe we should trust him._

**You’re even stupider than I thought.**

At this, a distinct wave of displeasure slammed into Charlotte like a tidal wave. And a cold coil of thought squeezed her soul causing Charlotte to shudder hand coming up over her heart. She hadn’t expected Red to actually speak.

**_He’s a murderer Greenie. Get that through your thick skull.  He doesn’t_ care _about you._**

The intensity behind Red’s words, the razor sharp hatred behind them made the hairs on Charlotte’s arms stand up.

_I-I know…I know…_

Red paused at this, sneering. But she must’ve found Charlotte’s answer satisfactory because she faded back into the dark corner of Charlotte’s mind and went silent once more. Her final words hung over Charlotte’s trembling body like a shroud.

**He doesn’t care about you.**

_I-I know…_

Charlotte turned over on her side, fingers gripping the plush surface of her lumpy pillow. She sniffled.

 _I just wish_ someone _did…_

 

 

#####################################################################################

 

Asgore didn’t go to bed. He sat alone in the dark hallway, his back pressed to the infirmary door where Charlotte Fox lay sleeping just on the other side. In his lap sat a folder of charts and pictures documenting Alphys’ progress and current treatment plan for the human. Two hours passed away with Asgore simply staring at the photograph Alphys had taken of Charlotte’s soul. The rotting green-red craters almost made him hurt to look at. He’d asked Dr. Alphys if the human would die and though she claimed the soul appeared to be stable and slowly healing, she had been unable to give him a straight answer.

Asgore closed the folder silently. Without a word he took out his phone and dialed Toriel. He pressed the green call button and hung up. Then he dialed her again, waited for the phone to ring twice before mashing the red button and shoving the phone back into his pocket. He would repeat this ritual five more times as the night dragged on. What was he supposed to do?

Should he tell Toriel about Miss Fox? Or would that be cruel? He’d kept her in the dark about all of this for weeks, not wanting to get her hopes up. It wasn’t difficult, seeing as how the two were practically strangers these days. But even so.

Charlotte Fox may be dying.

What was crueler? To tell Toriel that her daughter is alive just so she could watch her die a second time? Or to tell her nothing and possibly deny her the chance to say goodbye? Should he simply wait until he knew for sure whether or not Charlotte would live before making a decision? It felt wrong to keep the truth from Tori. He’d been doing it so much as of late.

At some point during the night Asgore heard movement from the other side of the door, and what he thought was Charlotte’s voice. He’d kept perfectly still and listened, until he was certain she had gone back to sleep. The king sighed, cradling his face in his hands. This was maddening.

His daughter was right on the other side of that door. She could be dying and he couldn’t help her. He couldn’t be there for her. And even worse, she didn’t even want him to be with her. He couldn’t so much as come within a few feet of the human without sending her into a panic. It was like a nightmare. Never in his life had he felt so helpless. So utterly crippled.

Sometime after three am, Asgore made a decision. He took a piece of parchment and wrote a letter. It was short. Direct. To the point. Asgore forced himself to keep it that way. Too much information would only overwhelm her. He kept it simple. When he was finished, he folded the letter crisply and rose  to his feet. Taking several deep breaths he slowly—very slowly—cracked open the door to Charlotte’s room. When the king realized she was asleep he relaxed letting the air out of his lungs in a relieved puff. For a long moment, he merely stood in the doorway, peering into the darkened room. He tried to gather his wits, knowing the longer he lingered there, the more of a chance there was of her waking up. He needed to get a grip.

 

As quietly as he could, the king made his way across the room and knelt down beside the hospital bed. She’d grown taller than when he’d known her, he hadn’t noticed during that first encounter in the study. But her face was the same as it had always been. The king’s soul flip-flopped affectionately at how tiny she looked in such a large bed. The human was curled up with the covers drawn up to her chin. Her mouth hung slightly open, and eyes moved rapidly beneath her eyelids, as if she were in the middle of a dream. Some of her hair had fallen down over one eye and the king reach out absently to brush the locks from her face. Thankfully he caught himself before his large furry paw made contact with her cheek. The king shook himself. What was he doing? Had he really been about to _touch_ this sleeping woman? What was wrong with him? What if she had woken up, to see him there hunched over her bedside?

 Asgore felt a stab of melancholy. She was right _there_. After watching her die. After thirty years of wishing he’d been able to save her, the urge to gather her up in his arms, the longing he felt was almost too much for him to resist. He yearned to press his lips into her hair, to feel her tiny fingers tugging at his beard. To pretend that he had a family. To pretend that there were still people in this damn world who loved him.

 

_To have his daughter back._

 

Asgore’s hand wavered, fingers hovering just above her head.

No. He was being stupid. Of course He couldn’t hold her. Couldn’t pretend that he hadn’t destroyed her trust in him. Couldn’t _force_ her to love him again. She would not understand. He would only succeed in frightening her again. The memory of her face when he’d tried to embrace her before. Her terror. The dark image smothered the light from his eyes and bitter tears rolled in to replace them. Asgore withdrew his hand and let it fall to inanely to his lap. 

 

She was not _his_ to love.

 

Asgore rose to his feet and placed the letter on the bedside table before withdrawing. The king found himself lingering in the doorway eyes trained on the sleeping form across the room. He clenched his fists to keep them from shaking, and reminded himself of where his boundaries lay.

_You have to let her come to you. You cannot force her to love you. She does not have to forgive you. She does not have to do anything for you._

Asgore stepped outside and gently closed the door.

_She is not yours to love._

_I know…_

Asgore pinched his eyes shut.

_I just wish that she was._

 


	45. Chapter 27: Laughter

 

 

**AN: Hey guys, sorry this one took a little longer than the others. I had some trouble with pacing, but I think I got it sorted out.  For this chapter at least.**

#### @[Tronski](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tronski/pseuds/Tronski): Yeah, Sans has kinda screwed things up a little. But at least now he’s beginning to realize his mistakes. So there hope. And yep, that last chapter was a little ball of angst. Hard to write too. As for the dummy/Dave tag, LOL I put that up right after posting the chapter where they meet Madstablook. I thought it was funny.

#### @ThrowawaySpecificallyForThisComment: Sorry for the feels overload. It gets kind of heavy I know. But considering my favorite book growing up was Les Miserables (Literally the miserable people) Angst is to be expected. XD

#### @lambs: Toriel is coming. (Eventually) We get more into whats happening with her in the Daphne Asriel arch. So its coming. Don’t worry.

#### @eJ121: Yep. Most fanfiction writers like to focus on romantic relationships. And in doing so they usually end up beating every romance trope in existence into the ground. But I really like writing family relationships more. Given my culture, religion and upbringing—there is a lot of focus on the importance of family. So I think that probably comes through in my writing a lot.  I really liked writing about Asgore and baby Chara’s relationship because it felt honest to me. And the longing that comes from missing someone you love or feeling betrayed by someone you admired just strikes me as exquisitely sad and sweet.

#### As for your soul cracking theory, that’s a good idea. But you’ll have to wait and find out the truth. ;)

#### So Frisk has the power of Determination just like Chara. Think of Chara like the power source that Frisk used to make the resets happen. The fact that Frisk’s power was Determination is the reason the her ability was resets to begin with. Frisk would die, but her Determination to keep going, and to fix what she messed up on before is what keeps bringing her back. Chara provides the power behind it, but the fact that the power is manifested as a reset is because of how Determination works.

#### Think about Aster. He has access to great amounts of power from his LV. But his power is Perseverance. We see again and again that his perseverance preserves his life again and again. When Asgore attacked him, his magic created a barrier between himself and the threat. And he used that ‘barrier’ to pin the king down.  So we see that a lot of his power manifests in the form of protecting himself. So even though he has a lot of power—possibly more than Chara/Asriel had when they combined—he has never had the ability to reset the timeline because his core ability doesn’t work that way.

#### So if Frisk dies without Chara, they cannot reset because they are no longer capable of generating the power to make it possible.

#### And you may ask, If the power came from Chara and Chara is in Charlotte, why is it that she doesn’t force Charlotte to reset?

#### That is because Charlotte does not have Determination. So even if she was aware of the power or knew how to use it, she would not be capable of creating a reset, just as she would not be capable of creating a barrier like Aster.

#### Her ability is Kindness, and we have yet to see how Chara’s power affects that, and what that means for the world.

#### Hope that answers your questions. ;)

#### @[non_suspicious](http://archiveofourown.org/users/non_suspicious/pseuds/non_suspicious): haha, don’t lose sleep on my account! I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself though. XD

#### ##################################################

 

 

 

Chapter 27: Laughter

_“Laughter is sunshine, it chases winter from the human face.”  
― [ **Victor Hugo**](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13661.Victor_Hugo), [ **Les Misérables**](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/3208463)_

 

 

 

 

Charlotte didn’t remember seeing the letter before she went to bed. But it was there waiting for her on the nightstand when she awoke the next morning.  Charlotte sat up in the oversized hospital bed, staring blankly at the neat regal print.

 

 

 

**Dearest Miss Fox,**

**Howdy!**

**Dr. Alphys tells me you are feeling unwell, and that you will be staying with us while you recover. Please feel free to remain here as long as it takes for you to get well. If you require anything during your stay please the doctor or one of the staff know of it. Do not worry about medical expenses while you are here. They have been taken care of.**

**That being said, would you have tea with me in my study, around four o’clock tomorrow afternoon? There are some issues I wish to discuss with you.**

**You are free to refuse this invitation and all future summons without fear of repercussion.**

**Get well.**

**Asgore.**

 

 

Charlotte read the letter. Then she read it again, to be sure she hadn’t misunderstood. A handwritten letter from the king. An invitation to tea? Charlotte chewed her lower lip trying to take it all in.  The word ‘howdy’ made her double-take. So informal. She ran a hand over the big loopy signature at the bottom of the page.

Asgore.

Not, King Asgore Dreemurr. Not ‘his royal majesty’ or a grocery list of lofty titles.

Just his first name.

 

_He must have stopped by while I was sleeping._

The realization both terrified and excited her. This was her chance to set everything straight. Once and for all. She was going to see him again. Sooner rather than later. Charlotte felt Red go sour like old milk and she could foresee another argument forming on the horizon.

 

But before Red could speak a loud noise from the hall shattered the early morning silence. The bed shirt Charlotte wore was long enough to be a dress on her, but when she realized the sound meant someone approaching the infirmary she started, hurriedly pulling the covers up to hide her bare legs. Pounding footsteps reverberated metallically against the ground, and the sound of a loud raucous voice laughing could be heard as the infirmary door swung open pounding against the wall.

 

“FUHUHUHUHU!”

 

Captain Undyne came striding into the room in full armor. She carried several black and purple bags in one arm while holding her helmet under the other. Alphys came puffing after, taking two steps for every one of Undyne’s in attempts to keep pace with the boisterous fish. Charlotte blinked.  

“HEY PUNK!”

Undyne marched right up to Charlotte dropping her sacks unceremoniously on the foot of the bed. She wore a wide serrated grin that took Charlotte’s sluggish brain a few seconds to register as ‘friendly’.

“HOW’VE YA BEEN?” Undyne laughed, punching Charlotte playfully in the arm. The human tried to hide her grimace with a grin.

_Ouch…_

“H-hi Captain…” Charlotte squeaked politely. She gingerly rubbed her smacked arm with a free hand, hoping it wouldn’t leave a bruise. Alphys came around the other side of the bed smiling nervously. “It’s nice to see you again.” Undyne threw her head back and let out another robust laugh. Charlotte wasn’t sure how it happened. One second Charlotte was sitting up in bed, and the next Undyne had her in a headlock and was grinding knuckles rather hard into her scalp.

 “FUHUHU! WHAT TH’ HELL DID YOU DO TO YOURSELF THIS TIME?” Undyne cackled. “ALPHYS SAID YOU WERE _DYING_ YOU LOSER!”

“Uh.” Charlotte croaked, making a feeble attempt to loose herself from Undyne’s grip. The fish woman’s affectionate assault was beginning to make her a little light-headed. Charlotte noticed the doctor blanch. She coughed began frantically shaking her head at Undyne. She made a slicing gesture across her throat, mouthing what looked like the words ‘shut up.’

 

“WHAT’S THAT BABE?”  Undyne grunted, seeming to notice the doctor’s alarm. Half a second later she released Charlotte who sank back onto the large bed massaging her throat. The human coughed giving her a feeble grin.

“Eheh…um…” Charlotte mumbled still trying to catch her breath. Alphys saved her the trouble by stepping in and snatching up one of the plastic sacks.

“C-charlotte! Undyne and I found some c-clothes for you to change into! I-Isn’t that great?” she quavered with forced cheerfulness. Her voice was an octave higher than normal and shiny beads of sweat had formed on her scaly face. She pushed the sacks into Charlotte’s arms.

“W-we were able to have them shipped overnight from t-this awesome website. Y-you’re going to look so c-c-cute!” Alphys stammered. Undyne seemed to have noticed Alphys’ discomfort. Her brows furrowed, lips stretched into a thin line. She cast Charlotte a questioning glance but the human merely shrugged. Charlotte wasn’t sure what had spooked the doctor so much either. Alphys doctor hurry over and grab Undyne’s arm, pulling her to her feet. “Y-you just go get changed while U-Undyne and I make some breakfast!”

Alphys paid Charlotte one last uncomfortable smile, then she made a b-line for the back room, yanking Undyne along with her. Charlotte stared at the incongruent scene as the normally timid doctor all but dragged a bizarrely uncertain looking Undyne out of the room.  It was quite a sight.

“U-um… thank you!” Charlotte called, as the door to the back room slammed shut leaving her alone once again. The human stared numbly at the door. She could still hear them arguing in hushed voices through the door. Moments later the human heard Undyne let out a shout, followed by a chorus of frantic shushing noises that sounded like Alphys.

“YOU MEAN SHE REALLY _IS_ DYING?!” the fish lady crowed. “HOLY BALLS! WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME BEFORE I— “ Her words cut off there, punctuated by the sounds of a struggle. Charlotte blinked, waiting a moment to see if they’d say more. When they didn’t the human let herself sink slowly back onto the bed. She stared at her bare knees.

_Dying._

_Oh._

Alphys had been worried Undyne’s exaggeration of her condition had _upset_ her. Because Undyne had jokingly said she was dying. It hadn’t though. Charlotte hadn’t even noticed the joke. She’d been too busy trying to slip out of the veritable iron clamp of a hold Undyne had her in to really think about what had been said.

She _hadn’t_ been upset.

But now?

The image of Alphys’ face going pale. The way she had refused to meet her eye.

 _‘YOU MEAN SHE REALLY_ IS _DYING?’_

Charlotte pulled the large pillow from the bed and squeezed it to her chest.

_Don’t think about it._

She told herself again.

_We don’t even know what’s happening yet. Alphys is already an anxious person. She’s probably just worried about offending me._

Charlotte wrapped herself round with these reassurances. There was no use getting into a panic now. With a sigh, the human closed the big white curtains around her bed to give herself some privacy before scoping out the sacks Alphys had left for her. They were all purple with fancy black lettering for an undernet store Charlotte had never heard of.

 

‘MAGICALGIRLSFANTASY.MON’

 

With a shrug Charlotte opened the first sack and looked inside. Her large red eyes grew round when she caught sight of what she initially took to be some kind of fancy lingerie. Red started laughing. 

Charlotte pulled out the first garment and held it up to herself staring in consternation at a pink and white amalgamation of ribbons, pleats and lace.

_Oh my lans above…_

Charlotte had attended a private catholic school when she was younger, so she knew a school girl uniform when she saw one. It was a sailor suit. At least, if said sailor suit had been designed by Victoria secret and had more taffeta than a runway walker’s wedding dress.

_What is this….I don’t even…_

Charlotte stared. There was a pink pleated skirt covered in bows and complete with the shortest petticoat Charlotte had ever seen. The blouse was white with a huge bow and an elaborate pink vest. The sleeves were poofy with lace and—unsurprisingly—also lined with ribbons and bows.

Charlotte’s face grew so hot that she wouldn’t have been surprised to see steam rising off of her cheeks. The human wasn’t familiar with many animes. She’d passed most of her childhood without a television. And the few anime character’s she’d actually encountered was via the lunchboxes backpacks and posters of various friends growing up. So she couldn’t begin to explain the sensory overload of frilly cuteness in her hands.

It was more outrageous than anything she’d ever seen before. More tooth rottingly sweet than she would ever dare pick out for herself.

But it also looked _expensive_.

Charlotte grimaced, letting the air hiss out of her lungs. Then she took the outfit off of its hanger.

Red was more gleeful than Charlotte had felt her in days. And the human was beginning to realize that happiness for Red usually meant discomfort for _her_. When she was finished changing Charlotte went to stand before the mirror, nervously attempting in vain to pull the skirt down so it covered more of her legs. She squeezed her wrist as she took it all in.

 

 _Well…?_   Charlotte pressed. Red seemed to grin impishly.

_It doesn’t look too bad does it?_

**_Pfft. It’s fine if you’re a sailor scout._ **

****

_A what?_

**_Nothin. Nice garters._ **

****

Charlotte took a deep breath. She tried to think about it logically. Undyne wears full medieval armor to work complete with spikey pauldrons and helmet plumes. Papyrus had his ‘battle body,’ and now that she thought about it, the royal guards, and even the king all wore pretty elaborate clothing. Maybe her crazy getup wouldn’t stand out as much as she thought it would.

 

_W-well…Alphys and Undyne picked it out. They said it came from their favorite store. So…so maybe this is normal for them?_

That earned another derisive snicker from the red soul.

 

**_Oh? You think so?_ **

****

_Alphys was so excited about this outfit so um…. Maybe no one will notice?_

**_Notice what? That you look like a baby prostitute?_ **

 

Charlotte covered her face with her hands to hide her embarrassment. She peeked out from in between her fingers, giving the ensemble a second sweep with her eyes. The top wasn’t too terrible. And maybe she could slip her shorts on underneath the skirt. They were blue jean material, but maybe the petticoat could hide them. At least then she wouldn’t have to worry about giving someone a peep show if she bent over.

Charlotte slipped her shorts back on. With the added protection that only denim can provide, Charlotte began to feel a little better about the outfit. She discovered that some of the bows could be untied and that the ribbons could be slipped out of the gathered fabric. She adjusted and readjusted the ribbons and pleats until she felt comfortable. Or at least, comfortable enough to not to run and hide at the thought of being seen in it.

Charlotte stood before the mirror and clapped her hands against her face; trying to pat the flush from her cheeks. She’d made up her mind to thank both monsters for the dress. They’d clearly spent a lot of money on it and she wasn’t about to turn up her nose at their hospitality.  Not after everything they’d done for her already.

It took a lot of primping and silent affirmation before Charlotte was ready to come out. She took a deep breath, parted the curtains and poked her head out into the open.  Alphys and Undyne were seated at the reception desk eating what looked like oatmeal. Undyne was the first to notice her, and she rose to her feet with a clunk.

“H-hey punk!” Undyne greeted, her piranha-like smile looked pained. She scratched the back of her head.  “Eh. About what I said earlier…wasn’t trying to…upset you or whatever.” It was bizarre seeing the Captain so uncomfortable. Her personality normally filled the entire room. Now she looked like she’d rather be invisible.

 

“Upset me? About what?” Charlotte slapped on her best cheerful grin and strode out into the room. “Ooh! Breakfast. That smells great!” She hadn’t thought twice about Undyne’s remarks before. And for her host’s sake she was determined to act as if the implication had never crossed her mind. A flash of relief fell over Undyne’s face and was quickly replaced by her usual confident smirk as Charlotte approached the table.

Alphys let out a choking squealy sound like she’d just forgotten how to breathe altogether and leapt to her feet while Undyne wolf whistled and let out a cajoling howl.  

“Uh…” Charlotte mumbled looking between the two monsters. Did Alphys actually have _stars_ in her eyes? The doctor shoved her knuckles into her mouth and grabbed Undyne’s arm, shaking it in excitement.

“I told you! Didn’t I tell you?” Alphys squealed. “With that hair and those red eyes she makes a perfect Makoto Chan!”

“W-who..?” Charlotte took an involuntary step backwards when Alphys turned on her. The dinosaur was practically vibrating with some fierce, feral form of affection. Her star-filled eyes peered hungrily through a pair of thick glasses. And Charlotte was unsettlingly reminded of that scene in Jurassic Park when the vans broke down outside of the tyrannosaurus rex paddock.

_Don’t move. She can’t see us if we don’t move._

Alphys charged. Charlotte squeaked— a noise somewhere between a nervous laugh and a scream—before turning tail and running for the back room. She made it a grand total of six feet before the doctor pounced on her, snatching her up around the middle and squeezing the human to her chest.

“Itoldyouthehaireyesandcomplexionwereallwrongformewmew.Butlookathershessocuteandinnocentandperfectthisisjustlikeepisode32whenmakotochangetsgumstuckinherhairandhastocutoffherlongbeautifulhairandshe’snervousaboutcomingtoschoolandhavingeveryoneseehernewhaircut.buteveryonethinksitsthecutestthingeverandshelearnsanimportantlessonaboutfriendshipandacceptanceand—“

 

Charlotte’s heart was pounding a mile a minute and she couldn’t tell if Alphys was still speaking English or not. But she couldn’t keep the wipe the frazzled grin from her face as the shy doctor gushed over her. She’d never seen Alphys so happy. The doctor oozed a kind of passion and energy that surprised her. It had a familiar quality that Charlotte couldn’t put her finger on. That is, until she noticed Undyne.

The Captain had stars in her eyes. She was grinning as though she were looking at the most precious and adorable thing she’d ever seen in her life. And she wasn’t looking at _Charlotte_. The human cocked her head, glancing between the two monsters.

_Dr. Alphys… And Captain Undyne?_

Charlotte let the idea rattle around in her skull.

_I’ll be darned._

Alphys gave the human another squeeze nuzzling and cooing in euphoria. “You are just so cute! Where is my camera? I have to take some—“

“NEEEEEEERD!” Undyne’s voice came like a foghorn. Charlotte paled when she saw the captain of the guard in full armor, swooping in on them like a bird of prey. In seconds Charlotte was free, and Alphys’ was whisked up into the Captain’s arms. “ITS NOT FAIR! HOW ARE YOU SO FREAKING ADORABLE YOU LITTLE NERD!”

Charlotte took this opportunity to run for it fleeing into the bathroom. She locked the door behind her before collapsing into a fit of giggles. It felt good to have something to laugh about. And in that silly, red-faced moment of glee—the loneliness and sorrow of the previous night seemed far away.

For just one brief moment.

The world was a good place again.  

 

 

Charlotte waited a good fifteen minutes before she decided it was safe to come out. Undyne had to go check on her guard dogs and Alphys seemed keen on going with her. When Charlotte decided the coast was clear she slipped out of the bathroom and back into the main room. The smell of cinnamon and cream of wheat reminded her that she was hungry, and the human headed back to the desk where Alphys had set out breakfast and scooped herself up a bowl of oatmeal. She was still humming happily to herself when she heard the infirmary door open. Charlotte jumped a little letting out a chirp of surprise.

“Ahk! Don’t hug me! I’m armed!” Charlotte gasped, wheeling around to brandish her oatmeal and spoon like they were a sword and shield. Her silly laughter died instantly and the human paled, when she saw who stood in the doorway. Charlotte swallowed a lump that formed in the back of her throat.

 

 _That_ was definitely _not_ Alphys.

 

#############################################################################

You guys have no idea how tempted I was to name this chapter “Laughter and Lesbians” But that probably would have killed the mood. XD


	46. Chapter 28: Déjà vu

 

 

 

**AN:**

**I’M ALIIIIIIVE!**

**Heh. So over the past few weeks I have gotten quite a few messages on several different sites about this update not coming as quick as usual. Most of them were respectful, but a handful were a little discouraging.**

**I’m sorry if I put off updates from time to time. You have all been very loyal and I really appreciate you reading it. But school is starting up again so the updates may start coming less often. Sorry, I’ve got a pretty rough semester ahead of me this time around. That and other responsibilities can get in the way.**

**So thank you for keeping with this and being patient with me. I will try to keep the updates as regular as possible.**

#### @ThrowawaySpecificallyForThisComment: Fair point. All in all this thing may last longer than I intended. I tend to spend more time on each part than I originally plan to. So who knows?

#### @lambs: Haha. Very true.

#### @[Malik_likeswaffles](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Malik_likeswaffles/pseuds/Malik_likeswaffles): Shhh! you’ll spoil the surprise!

#### @[MintChocolate](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MintChocolate/pseuds/MintChocolate): Hi Mary. Its always such a delight to hear from you. I’m glad you’re enjoying the story. And Yes, Papyrus is planning to visit her soon. Though when she doesn’t show up for work Daphne isn’t going to be too happy. Charlotte better let them know or she may inenvertently awaken the crazy mother bear. ;)

#### @eJ121: That’s kinda what I was thinking. Laughter and Lesbians kind of sounds like the title to a bad porno.

#### That is an interesting theory you got there pal. I guess we’ll see what happens.

#### As to the slower update thing, I know. Work social life stuff, vacation and now school gets in the way. Plus I was kind of stuck on a few things in this chapter and it ended up going in a different direction than how I planned it.

#### I’m going to try and be more regular with updates, but don’t be too disappointed if they come out a little slower. Sometimes life gets in the way.

#### @[Dragongirl38](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragongirl38/pseuds/Dragongirl38): Its fine. Glad you’re enjoying the story.

#### ######################################################

 

 

 

 

Chapter 28: Déjà vu

 

 

 

 

 

Déjà vu. The feeling that you’ve already experienced something before. Just such a sensation fell upon Charlotte when she saw who stood in the doorway.

 

 Gerson raised a gnarled brow at her. He stood in the doorway of the hospital room, giving the lot of it a good scowl before coming forwards.  The old monster had an awkward gait. He hobbled into the room, leaning heavily on his cane. Charlotte blinked experiencing a bout of Déjà vu.

 

_Déjà vu. The feeling that you’ve already experienced something before._

****

 “Oh…!” Charlotte shook herself before skittering over and taking the monster’s arm. “L-let me help you!”

 

“Gerroff. Quit pawing…” He gave her a feeble swat grumbling to himself but didn't push her off as she led him over to one of the beds.

 

Despite his apparently frailty, something about the old monster made Charlotte sit up a little straighter. The turtle had sharp measuring eyes. He moved with purpose, and carried himself like an old soldier. Like someone who knew how to kill and kill well. Like someone you did _not_ want to cross.  Charlotte tried not to stare as he settled down on the cot, his old bones giving off a creak.

 

The monster cleared his throat with a wheeze--a noise like great stones being ground together.

 

“Morning Chara” he growled offhandedly. He made a shooing gesture with one hand and Charlotte took the hint. She settled back down on the bed across from his.

 

“G-good morning Mr. Gerson.” Charlotte peeped.The name rose immediately to the forefront of Charlotte’s mind, catching her off guard. She’d never met him in person, and it took her a moment to connect his name and face back to the author of an article she’d read nearly a month earlier. The human flushed dropping her eyes to the bowl of lumpy oatmeal in her lap. How had she recognized him so quickly?  The monster raised a brow, studying her with shrewd yellow eyes. The frown ever present on his distorted features.

 

“Mm…” he grumbled, flipping open a magazine. Charlotte shoved another bland spoonful of breakfast into her mouth. The monster went silent again, seemingly content to let the conversation die. But the uneasy feeling in the pit of Charlotte’s stomach didn’t abate. It was a familiar sort of nervousness, which kept her fingers fidgeting and her back straight. That prickling on the back of her neck. It was the feeling she got every time Sans was nearby. She knew that feeling.

 

The old General was _appraising_ her.

 

 

“A-are you feeling u-unwell?” Charlotte said when the silent judgement grew too much for her. She was rewarded with a yellow-eyed squint scrutinizing her face beneath a pair of bushy grey brows.

 

“S’ my leg.” He growled flatly. “Foot mostly. Just seein that everything’s in fine fettle.”

 

“Oh.” Charlotte frowned. The leg in question was riddled with scars, and in some places it looked as though something had once tried to take a bite out of him. He’d clearly been through a lot in his day.

 

“Did you hurt your leg back in the war?”  The words tumbled from Charlotte’s lips before she could stop them.

 

“Th’ war?” Gerson set his magazine aside, angling his wizened body to face her. Charlotte felt herself flush with embarrassment. “Girlie, Has anybody ever warned ya never step on the metal grating at the bottom of the escalator?”

 

“Um. Yes?”

 

“Well then.” He squinted closing one eye, and shook a gnarled finger in her direction. “Next time somebody tells you that you listen. Ya get me?”

 

Charlotte’s mouth fell open and she turned her head sharply to gape at the turtle dumbly. It took her a moment to notice the twitch at the corner of his mouth. Or the glint of humor in his sallow old eyes. Then she flushed coming down from her momentary panic with a timid giggle. Gerson winked and Charlotte felt some of her previous nervousness of the old turtle diminish. What a weird old guy.

 

But then--Charlotte realized--it _had_ been a rather personal question.

 

“Thats a good girl.”

 

The old turtle lit his pipe and all. The air was filled with the smell of tobacco. Part of Charlotte wanted to remind him that they were technically in a hospital. But she thought better of it. Gerson seemed every inch the sort of person who liked rules and structure very much so long as such provisos were not expected of him. No. He was the sort that could do whatever else pleased. A right extended only to the very important or the very old.

 

“Mr. Gerson?” Charlotte muttered, gaining his attention once more. She ran a hand through her hair unsure of how to voice her thoughts. “Do you… I mean… Have I met you somewhere before?”

 

“Dunno.” He gruffed. “Have you?”

 

“I don’t know…” Charlotte shrugged lamely. She let the statement hang in the air. But Gerson didn’t provide any more insights on the matter and the subject died once more. Charlotte turned her nose back to her breakfast. It wasn’t until she’d finished and set the bowl aside that the old general spoke again.

 

“So. You snuck into the king’s study and went rifling through his things?” Gerson mused. Another puff of smoke rose from his nostrils as he snorted. “That's plucky.”Charlotte winced shoulders coming up.

 

“How did you know about that?” 

 

“He tol’ me about it.”

 

Charlotte grimaced. Charlotte wasn’t sure why she felt surprised. It wasn’t as if her slip up was a secret. But the mental image of Asgore talking about her blunder with Gerson--with _anyone_ \--made her stomach twist.

 

“Jus’ what did ya think ya’d find?” Gerson growled.

 

“I uh…” Charlotte bit her lower lip.  All the reasoning’s behind her espionage sounded silly to her now. But then, the fact that she was unsuccessful probably didn’t help. “I dunno…” Charlotte mumbled at last, dropping her eyes. She could still feel his gaze, and It made her ears burn.

 

“Ya dunno heh?” the old general growled with another dismissive gesture. 

 

“I guess...I guess I just wanted to know more about him.” Charlotte said lamely. “It sounds kind of stupid. But I think I wanted to learn about him for myself. Instead of relying on what other people said about him.”

 

Gerson paused at this, the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth deepened. He went silent for a moment, just watching her. Charlotte felt her anxiety begin to rise.

 

 _Déjà vu._ The human searched for something to say to him. Anything to deflect the probing feeling he gave off. It was unnerving. Just what was he looking for?

 

“From what I hear you checked in at the front gate. All chummy with the guards n’ such.” Gerson mused. “If you wanted to know about him why didn’t you make an official request and schedule an appointment. Would’ve been a lot less suspicious.”

 

Charlotte blinked, turning to look at the old turtle.

 

“You mean, just waltz up and ask to meet him?” she asked. The back of Gerson’s shell bobbed in something like a shrug. Charlotte’s nose wrinkled. In all of her research and schemes she’d never even considered such a thing.

 

“Why that’s…”She shook her head slowly. “He- I mean, Bollocks. He’s the _king_. He’d never agree to meet with me.”

 

“Oh he wouldn’t would he?” Gerson growled.

 

Charlotte frowned turning the idea around in her mind. Just...asking the king himself? The idea was ludicrous. He was too important to make time to meet every random stranger that wanted to see him. Right?

 

 _He_ did _invite you to tea._

 

Charlotte reminded herself again that these weren’t humans she was dealing with.  Not humans. There was no guarantee that the societal norms she was used to still held true when it came to monsters. And if that was the case, was it really so remarkable to have a leader that was able to work more one on one with people? Charlotte didn't know. Gerson smirked, shaking his head.

 

“Its not… Humans don’t really do things that way.” Charlotte explained hastily. “Random people don’t usually request audiences with political leaders. They’re like... _busy_.”

 

“No?” Gerson mused. He snorted, scratching at what looked like a liver spot on his forehead. “Well then, I suppose they just climb into windows and snoop instead do they?” The human flushed.

 

“N-no… It’s just… There are just too many people. How can one person work one on one with all of them? There has to be at least…” Charlotte trailed off.

How many monsters _did_ live in Ebbot? A couple hundred? Thousands? It couldn’t be that many. Even with Magic how many monsters could realistically fit inside of the mountain? The population couldn’t be much. Less than an average state that was for sure. Maybe even less than a large city.

 Charlotte’s brow furrowed. The entire monster population was forced into Ebbot at one point. Not just the population of a certain region, but the _entire_ population of the earth. That’s what the monsters had said. It was why no one had seen any of them in over a thousand years. But…

 

That couldn’t be true could it?  There couldn’t have been so few monsters in the world. They had said that the war went on for years and years. There were roughly seven billion humans on the planet. And even if the fight was isolated to a smaller area, the population of Charlotte’s home town alone could have outnumbered the monsters ten to one.  There had to have been more monsters, how else could they have kept the humans at bay for so long?

 

 

Then it hit her like a sledgehammer to the gut. It shouldn’t have been surprising. Not really. 

 

Déjà vu.

 

_Rwanda. Armenia. Porajmos. Nanking_

 

It’s all happened before.

 

_Native Americans. Tutsis. Australian Aborigines.  Jews._

 

And it may very well happen again.

 

_And again._

Charlotte knew these stories. Knew them so well that they could almost be considered part of human nature.

_Why had she never realized?_

The human raised a shaking hand to her mouth. She felt bile in the back of her throat , her breakfast threatening to come back up. 

 

“Whasamatter girl?” came a gruff voice. Gerson was watching her, lips wrinkled together like a drawstring bag. She vaguely registered his emotions through her daze. _Confusion. Tiredness. And no small amount of concern._ A gnarled hand gripped her shoulder, she could feel his fingers dig into the hollow of her collarbone. Giving her a rough shake. But a wall was going up in human’s mind. A coldness settling in, like a sheet of ice on a mountain. “Girl— _Chara_! What is it?” he sounded more urgent this time.

 

“We killed them.” Charlotte said in a small voice. The turtle paused midshake. “We just wiped them off the map and forgot about them. Didn’t we?” Gerson was still. Then he slowly released her shoulder, letting his hand fall inanely to his lap.

“ _Yes._ ” The response came softer than a whisper. Yet so hard that you could sharpen a dagger on it. “Yes you did.”

Charlotte closed her eyes.

There were no words. Though she searched for them. The search came up dry. What could she say? Words felt cheap. Apologies seemed almost an insult. Like offering a Band-Aid to cancer patient. Charlotte felt the tears behind her eyes, ready to fall. But when she caught the old general watching her, when she saw those yellow cataract laced eyes on her face,  she bit them back. He’d seen it happen. He’d been there over a thousand years ago.

He’d watched his friends and family fall like wheat beneath a scythe. Seen them dwindle and die at the hands of people like her. Charlotte recoiled, arms hugging around herself. Her face. Her hands. Her body— they were all reminders weren’t they? People like her had destroyed this man’s entire world. Charlotte rubbed the heels of her hands against her eyes. She couldn’t cry in front of him. Not after what he’d seen. After everything people like her had taken from this man.

 

She could not take their tears for herself.

 

Charlotte sniffled, trying to calm her breathing. She heard the old turtle grunt.

 

“Don’t waste your tears.” Gerson said in a low voice. “You’re not a child anymore you know.” Charlotte nodded minutely but kept her red face covered.

“I-I’m s-sor-…I’m s-so…”

 

“Quiet.” He grunted. “Won’t change nuthin.” Charlotte flinched, feeling a heavy hand fall upon the top of her head. It lingered there  in silence for a long while as Charlotte sniffled and shook, trying and failing to calm herself. After a moment she heard Gerson sigh. The claw-like hand started patting her hair.

“Dumb kid.” Gerson gruffed. An arm sliding over her shoulders. “You dumb dumb kid…”  The human folded, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. Charlotte felt horrible. Horrible, blubbery and stupid. And crying on a complete stranger. The old turtle was as stiff and unyielding as a block of ice.

 But he didn’t push her away

“Just be better than them.” Gerson gruffed into her hair. “ S’bout all anyone in this damn world can do now. Just be better. Do better.”

Charlotte nodded stupidly. It was hard to say how long she stayed like that, greedily gleaning comfort from a broken man. Looking back Charlotte liked to think that Gerson gained some peace and comfort from the encounter. But it may have just been wishful thinking. Eventually she raised her face and pulled away. There was a large wet splotch on Gerson’s collar and the human felt another wave of embarrassment. But the old turtle didn’t appear to care, he simply brushed himself off and looked away. He was always so straight backed, even then, as he peered absently out the window at nothing.

“You’re a good kid Chara.” Gerson gruffed. He gave her knee a rough pat, and Charlotte found herself sitting a little straighter as well.

 

 **“Chara…”** came a pleasant mild voice. Charlotte glanced up, her heart soaring when she saw who stood in the doorway of the hospital. Warm smile on his face, and a vase of beautiful purple flowers tucked into the crook of his arm. Charlotte made to rise, eager to greet her visitor. Gerson’s hand fell on her arm like a metal clamp and squeezed sharply, holding her in place. She blinked, feeling a wave of contempt roll off of the old General and slam into her like an ocean wave hitting the shore.

Senator Aster’s eyes locked onto the place where Gerson’s rough hand clutched into Charlotte’s flesh. His straight white smile lengthened. **“What a beautiful pet name…”**

 

###########################################################################

 

Sorry no snas this time. The bonezone is closed. We still have a few things to see before that *cough happy cough* reunion. 


	47. Chapter 29: Jackass

**AN:**

**Heh.. hi… *dodges rotten fruit**

**I know! I know its been awhile! I’ve been extremely busy these last few months what with school, work, social life, and well—LIFE in general. So I’m sorry this is so late. But I’ve finally found some spare time to continue this story. Not sure how many of you are still waiting around, but I suppose nows as good a time as any.**

**This will be a short one. This scene gave me enough trouble as it is, and will probably be pretty rough still, even after all this time. I’m rusty and need to get back into the swing of things. Thanks for being patient!**

**Incase you’ve ever wondered what I look like… I’ve posted some photos of my Chara cosplay from last year’s comic con at the end of the story. Not much. But hopefully you enjoy it. ;)**

**RESPONSES:**

ThrowawaySpecificallyForThisComment : Yeah, it wasn’t my best work, I’ll admit. I was pretty excited for the Jackass reveal TBH. Hopefully this scene is enjoyable or atleast meets expectations.

 

 

####  [eJ121](http://archiveofourown.org/users/eJ121/pseuds/eJ121): I see what you mean about Chara’s response. She’s kind of been in an angry/weakened daze from whats been happening. There are some reasons for this that you’ll eventually discover (if we get that far, ) She’ll snap out of it a bit more in this chapter. As for Aster, That typeface has taken on some implications due to how it has been used with Chara. I thought that mirroring that with Aster in certain places may be able to communicate a lot without having to spell it out. What those implications are I’ll leave up to you to interpret. ;)

#### Kit: So you have wished it, and so it shall be. ;)

####  [AnaXaver](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AnaXaver/pseuds/AnaXaver): Glad you’re enjoying it.

####  [Immortalchord](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Immortalchord/pseuds/Immortalchord): Lol. We’ll see.

#### Galarvis: Thank you for the compliment. ^^ its nice to know you’re enjoying this.

####  [oranj](http://archiveofourown.org/users/oranj/pseuds/oranj): Psst! ….. <<……>>…. Hiatus is over. ;)

####  [Dragongirl38](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragongirl38/pseuds/Dragongirl38): Cute! That sort of meeting may be coming around the corner sooner than you think. ;)

#### ##############################################

**CHAPTER 29: Jackass**

**#############################**

**“Chara…”**  came a pleasant mild voice. Charlotte glanced up, her heart soaring when she saw who stood in the doorway of the hospital. Warm smile on his face, and a vase of beautiful purple flowers tucked into the crook of his arm. Charlotte made to rise, eager to greet her visitor. Gerson’s hand fell on her arm like a metal clamp and squeezed sharply, holding her in place. She blinked, feeling a wave of contempt roll off of the old General and slam into her like an ocean wave hitting the shore.

Senator Aster’s eyes locked onto the place where Gerson’s rough hand clutched into Charlotte’s flesh. His straight white smile lengthened.  **“What a beautiful pet name…”**

 

“Jack Ass-ter” Gerson gruffed. Charlotte felt Gerson’s vice-grip jerk her back and she nearly tripped as the old monster shoved forwards to fill the space between her and Senator Jack. “Yours suits you even better.”

Jack’s gaze tracked Charlotte’s movements sharply before locking onto Gerson’s haggard face like a laser beam. His lips spread into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Then Jack laughed. A noise like a diamondback’s rattle. Charlotte felt a chill.

 

"I certainly walked right into that one didn't I old friend?” Jack chuckled, advancing into the room. Gerson stayed where he was, but his upper body turned casually to keep parallel with Jack he  moved, as if he didn’t want the human to get behind him. Jack set the vase of flowers onto the nightstand. Charlotte gave herself a shake.

 

“O-oh! Thank you! Are these for me?” She squeaked, making a brilliant attempt to slice through the tension that had filled the infirmary. Jack straightened.

 

“Of course. This morning when I came in for the day I asked the guard how you were doing. He said you hadn't gone home yet. I thought I'd stop by and see how you were feeling.” Jack smiled, showing fewer teeth and gums than before. Charlotte flushed.

 

“Really? You didn’t have to do that.” She insisted.

 

“No. You really didn’t.” Gerson chimed in flatly. He stepped up closer to Aster. Charlotte noticed dazedly that he left his cane behind. “Don’ you have places to be?” Gerson’s bad leg planted poorly on the last step and he half stumbled.  but to the old monster’s credit he didn’t fall. Aster’s lips twitched.

 

“Careful old man.” Aster tutted, closing the distance with a long stride. “ **You’re liable to fall down.”** Charlotte audibly heard the old turtle’s teeth clench. She peered between them dazedly. What _was_ this?  
  
Had she misjudged Jack before? The young senator seemed so kind and friendly he had been nothing but warm towards her and the guards when they’d first met. But now? Something was up. He and Gerson acted as if they knew one another. Extremely well. And it didn’t feel as if this was a friendly reunion.

**_Hey. Whats this guy’s name again?_ **

_Uh. Jack?_

**_His last name moron. What’s his last name?_ **

  
Oh. Aster. His name is Jack Aster—why?

 

Red silently rolled the name around in their head but gave no reply.

“You know I heard a funny story from the gentleman at the front desk.” Aster went on. “He tells me this young woman spent most of her stay in the laboratory, and was only recently moved to a sick bed.” The statement sounded almost like an accusation. Charlotte bit her lower lip. Should she say something? She wracked her brain for something, anything to assuage the tension that had formed. But came up empty. 

 

“Not much choice. Our medic didn’t come into work. Hasn’t been in for days.” Gerson grunted. He raised his chin. “Though I’m sure you’ve already heard all about that haven’t you?” The monster’s voice took on a slight edge. But Charlotte couldn’t divine the reason for it. Her head kept swiveling between the two, as she tried in vain to read their cryptic tones.

 

“I have. Dreadful business. You’ll have to let me know how the search goes. Doctor… Sylph  was it?” Jack asked mildly. Gerson gave a hard nod. Jack waved a dismissive hand.  “I’m sure he’ll turn up. He hadn’t any legs after all. How far could he have slithered off?” Charlotte didn’t think it possible. But Gerson suddenly appeared even more haggard and old than he had before. His fist clenched. The human patted Gerson on the back, fingers slightly splayed so that only his palm brushed the knarled shell.  

 “Hows about you have a rest old sport? I really think it would do you some good.” Jack mused leaning in so that he was almost nose to nose with the old monster. For a dark instant, Charlotte thought Gerson might actually hit him. Gerson’s voice came out, a deep barely retrained whisper.

 

“Hows about you _take a long walk off of cliff_? Do us all some good?”

The clockwork turnings of Red thoughts clenched to a sudden almost painful halt. Charlotte sucked in a gasp.

_What? What is it?! Whats wrong?!_

 

Jack’s expression darkened like a thunder cloud.  Red let loose a silent string of expletives.

 

**_Jackass._ **

 

 

  
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Another cliffhanger? Sorry folks. But this next chapter should come a lot sooner this time around. (hopefully)

 

You can see the rest of my ugly mug on the twitter blog. I know its not much for how long I made you all wait (or not much at all TBH) But I hope you enjoy. 


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